


Birthday Flowers

by c_violet



Category: The Kissing Booth (2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2019-08-27 00:39:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 116,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16692037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c_violet/pseuds/c_violet
Summary: Elle Evans and Noah Flynn may be a little bit older, but have they grown any wiser? Five years after the events of "The Kissing Booth" and two years after a breakup neither can quite explain, Elle and Noah get their second chance... and blow it, badly. When unexpected news forces them to talk, will it be third time's the charm or third strike?(Movie universe)





	1. Prologue: A Ghost Appears

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress, and updates are currently being posted only to Wattpad because I can't keep up with posting in three places. But I promise, this isn't abandoned. So if you'd rather not wait: https://www.wattpad.com/story/169252478-birthday-flowers-the-kissing-booth
> 
> The book and the movie diverge on several points, and this story tracks the movie. In particular, Elle’s mom died when Elle was fifteen, after a long illness (as in the movie), rather than a car crash when Elle was eight (as in the book). Timeline-wise, the story opens in fall 2020, seven years after Elle's mom died and six years after the movie starts.

October 24th. Mom’s birthday - she would have been 52 this year. I ask the florist for irises, marigolds, peach roses, crimson tulips. It’s a crazy combination and the florist asks if I’m sure. I am - Mom loved color. I want a riot of color. I ask for the glittery ribbon and the florist side eyes me again. Go ahead, dude. Say something. I am itching for a fight, hoping he’ll tell me how tacky my bouquet is so I can play the Dead Mom card. But I guess he’s read the thing about the customer always being right, because he hands me my bouquet with a smile. 

The sun is out in all its Southern California glory as I drive to the cemetery, and I realize that at some point this drive became comforting rather than painful. I park and walk the familiar path to Mom’s grave. It’s just me, this year. Brad has an away game and Dad went with him. 

When I find Mom, a gorgeous bouquet of gerbera daisies in every color already leans against her headstone. I’m not surprised - Mrs. Flynn often visits on Mom’s birthday too - but this is beyond June’s usual elegant lilies or roses. I spot a card tucked into the flowers and its achingly familiar handwriting makes my heart race. I startle like I’ve seen a ghost, but it’s a living, breathing Noah I spot when I whirl around. He’s about thirty yards away, on a bench in the memorial garden. His head is down, buried in a book, but I’d know that profile anywhere. But maybe “ghost” had been the accurate term for what I’d seen. You see, it’s… been a while. Two years since my dad almost died, I dropped out, Noah proposed, I freaked out, and everything went wrong. 

Maybe there’s backstory needed here. Just a little.


	2. Before It All Went Wrong

Noah and I made it all the way to May of my senior year doing the long distance thing. It helped that his parents are rich and his mom loves me, so plane tickets weren’t an issue. June Flynn has been not-so-secretly lobbying practically my whole life to make me a daughter in law. She realized quickly that Lee and I would never head down the aisle together - I mean, except as each other’s Best People, because you know Lee would rock a frilly bridesmaid’s dress - but once Noah and I went public, June got stars in her eyes again.

Which isn’t to say that being long distance was easy, and the little things built up. I got sick of the edge in Noah’s voice any time I mentioned hanging out with any male other than Lee, especially given that Noah seemed to be on a first name basis with every Harvard woman. Not that I actually thought he’d cheat - but why couldn’t he trust me the same way? We had a hundred fights about his caveman mode. And we had all the usual misunderstandings and squabbles that come from relying on texts and video chats instead of actual conversations. You’d think, then, that Noah would have been thrilled to have me go to college in Boston, right? I didn’t make it into Harvard - some of us aren’t athletic recruits with generous alumni grandparents, ahem, _Noah_ \- but I did get a scholarship from Boston University. And when Lee, bless his dorky heart, got into MIT, it was like all the pieces had fallen into place. All three of us together again - perfect, right? Until Noah came home for the summer just in time for me to get an unexpected call from Stanford.

Of course I applied to Stanford. Every smart kid in California applies to Stanford. I hadn’t expected to get in, and by the time they took me off the waitlist my heart was set firmly on heading east. But Noah went ballistic at the idea that I’d pass up Stanford for him. I went ballistic at Noah thinking this was all about him. I mean, of course Noah was part of Boston’s appeal. But so was Lee. So was the chance to go somewhere completely new. 

And then there was the money. You’ve seen the Flynn house, right? The Flynns are loaded. Lee likes to claim his grandfather invented the disco ball, but it was actually some very boring, very essential semiconductor thing. So Lee and Noah never had to think about how much college would cost. Not so for me. Stanford was expensive. BU was offering me a full ride. I could take out loans and spend the last of mom’s life insurance payout, or I could graduate debt free. The fact that Lee and Noah would be nearby was icing on the cake. But Noah thought it was all about him, thought I was throwing opportunity away to follow him, and we fought bitterly. And that’s how Noah and I made it through almost a year of long distance, and broke up as soon as he got home. 

I spent the summer going on dates with every guy Noah ever tried to scare away from me. Noah spent the summer glowering at me from across the room at parties. He made out with just enough girls to refresh his player reputation. We took turns finding excuses not to attend Sunday lunches. 

It was Lee who got us back together. Apparently the only thing worse than your brother dating your bff is your brother and your bff making each other miserable not dating. Lee told me we were having one last bestie weekend at the beach house before college. Lee told Noah they needed a weekend of brotherly bonding. When I arrived at the beach house, Lee grabbed my car keys and drove away in Noah’s car, leaving us stranded. A screwball plan, but we didn’t actually need much encouragement. It was a memorable, mostly naked, weekend. I’m not sure we ever discussed the breakup and how we got so angry so fast - it all melted away once we were together.

The next two years were magical. I loved BU and discovered a passion for chemistry. Not the kind of passion for chemistry Noah and I once engaged in. The kind where you ace your classes and get an amazing lab internship. Which isn’t to say that Noah and I didn’t sneak into empty classrooms on occasion, but we were much more careful about security cameras now. I played club soccer, worked at the library, and even made some female friends. Lee thrived at his nerd wonderland, and he and I found every DDR machine between BU and MIT. Noah kept doing his sneaky-smart scholar-athlete thing, now with considerably less fighting. And Noah and I, well - we were great. Better than great. We didn’t spend every night together, far from it. We were both busy with classes, and with making the most of our college experience. And have you actually tried sharing a dorm-sized bed with someone as tall as Noah? It’s less a snuggling experience and more a balancing act. But on Friday afternoons when I left my last class, I could count on Noah grinning at me from the bench outside, ready to take us on the latest adventure he’d plotted. The three of us even continued the Evans-Flynn Sunday lunch tradition, expanded to include our college friends. Noah and I competed to set Lee up for a while, but after a series of disastrous blind dates Lee told us to quit it. Then he went and found himself Kristina, an astrophysicist who won my approval by demolishing both of us at DDR. So, as Lee and I got ready to start our junior years and Noah his senior year, everything seemed perfect. And then Brad called to tell me dad was in the hospital.


	3. A Disaster Averted...

Dad was always an invincible figure in my head, and after Mom died he went to every length to make sure Brad and I felt secure. He fought with insurance companies to make sure we got Mom’s life insurance and weren’t wiped out by hospital bills, and he never let on how close we came to losing the house. He was at all my soccer matches, led Brad’s Scout pack, and then stayed up late working to keep on top of our bills. He made a big deal about quitting smoking and getting fit and never skipping his physicals, to reassure us he was doing everything to protect his health. But none of that helps when a texting driver t-bones your car.

Noah was at my place when Brad called. Accident - totaled - helivac - ICU - none of Brad’s words made sense. It was Noah who took my phone and coaxed what details he could from a panicked Brad, Noah who booked me the next flight to LA and packed my bag, Noah who called Lee to fill him in and sent the Flynns to sit with Brad, Noah who shepherded me to the airport. I just followed in a daze. Brad had been sending updates. I wasn’t even sure what they meant. It sounded like Dad was headed into surgery. Noah walked me to the gate when my flight was called, then kept on walking into the jetbridge. I pulled his arm back, confused.

“Noah - they won’t let you walk me onto the plane. I’ll be fine.”

“Pretty sure they’ll let me onto the plane.”

“Noah, I’m not helpless. I can manage. You’ve already done so much.” I took my bag from him and started down the jetbridge. He kept following. “Seriously, deactivate white knight mode. I’ll manage. I’ll call you when I land.” We were nearly at the plane by now.

“Sure. But I’ve got a flight to LA to catch and you’re in my way.” Noah flashed a boarding pass at me. 

“You cannot! You- have classes! And practice! And, and, you don’t even have a bag!” Noah ignored me and plucked my boarding pass from me, handing it to the flight attendant along with his. She led us to first class. “Noah! I can’t afford this!”

“I can. And these were the last two seats. Sit.”

I had no choice. I could recognize a Noah on a mission. “But - your classes. And your stuff.” I was still stuck on that.

“Shell, who packed your bag? Have you even looked inside? I threw in clothes from the stuff I keep at your place. Next week is just shopping period - I already emailed the registrar to let them know I had a family emergency. I’ll be fine. And I emailed my coach. Relax, please.”

“Oh god, the registrar. I should do that.”

“It’s done. And your boss too.”

“WHAT?”

“Shelly, just- please. Just let me help.”

I was so tired, and there was no point fighting Noah for being, well, Noah. And I couldn’t say this instance of meddling was unwelcome. I gave up and let Noah tuck me against his chest and cover me with his jacket, and I fell asleep while he drew light circles on my back.

That’s how the next few days went. Brad and I huddled together by Dad’s bed and Noah took care of all the things I didn’t even realize needed doing, making calls and organizing, feeding us, reminding us to bathe and change and get some sunlight. Dad’s injuries were significant but survivable, the doctors said. Whether he’d walk again was uncertain, but at least his brain had never been deprived of oxygen. By the fourth day Dad was mostly coherent, if a little loopy on pain meds, and his medical team starting talking about the long term plan. 

“As I was telling your son in law,” the attending said, “if your blood pressure stays steady and your surgical sites keep healing cleanly, in a few days you can move out of the ICU, and then in a week or two to a physical rehabilitation ward.” Dad’s eyebrows shot up at “son in law,” and as soon as the doctors left the room Dad leveled a death stare at me and Noah.

“ _Son in law_? Anything I need to know?” he demanded. 

“Don’t give me that look! This is news to me, too!” I defended myself. Dad and I turned our glares to Noah, who sheepishly rubbed at his neck.

“That first day, the doctors told me they could only give updates to the patient’s family, and you and Brad weren’t in any state to listen, so... I may have, ah, overstated my position in this family.” Noah admitted. “And- maybe also to the nurses, so they’d let me stay after visiting hours. And I may have, ah, made a few calls to insurance companies on behalf of my beloved father in law.”

“Well, thank you for everything you’ve been doing here. But next time you marry her, I want to know ahead of time.” Dad was still glaring, though it was hard to gauge his seriousness through the pain meds.

I blushed crimson, but Noah just smirked. 

Dad made me go home that night to sleep in a real bed, although “home” turned out to be the Flynn house, where Brad was already staying. I’d been running on adrenaline for four days, and Noah looked equally exhausted. We didn’t bother with dinner, just crawled into Noah’s bed after showers and fell asleep. June didn’t even pretend to expect we’d sleep apart. 

I woke with a start at 4 a.m., the result of nightmares and a circadian rhythm thrown off by patchy hospital sleep and the time zone shift. I slowly took inventory of my surroundings to calm my racing heart. Noah’s arm was slung across me, tucking me against him as he curled his longer body protectively around mine. I stretched my legs and found I was not perched on the edge of a narrow dorm bed as usual; instead, as my eyes adjusted to the dark, I recognized the room. I was in California. With Noah. At his house. The events of the last few days slid back into place and I felt tears fill my eyes. It wasn’t a desperate cry as in the panic of the first days, but an expression of relief and dread for the long road ahead. Noah’s arm tightened against me as he woke. 

“Go back to sleep, Shell,” he whispered into my hair. “He’s going to be okay.”

“Promise?” It was an unfair request. 

“No. But I promise I’ll be here.” 

I could feel the steady thump of Noah’s heartbeat against my back. I let myself focus on that, on the soft sounds of his breathing, on the faint citrus and cedar smell of his soap. I thought back to the first morning I woke in this bed, and to how far we’d come since then. Noah’s fingers were tracing lazy, soothing circles over my stomach. A need for a different kind of comfort came over me. I twisted to face him, my lips seeking out that spot where his neck curved into his shoulder. I kissed my way up to his cheek, my fingers sliding into his hair. The quickening of Noah’s breath betrayed his reaction and his hands tensed at my sides, gripping me lightly. 

“Shell, are you sure?” 

Of this, yes, I was sure. My lips accelerated their path, meeting his as I pulled him closer, my fingers twisting in his hair with growing insistence. My answer clear, Noah rolled us over and I let the familiar press of his hips anchor me to this instant, this needed respite. If I had known it would be our last time, would I have burned brighter, faster, more frantically to sear the moment into memory? But we had no idea.


	4. ... A Disaster Unexpected

A week after the accident, Dad graduated from the ICU to a regular ward. The thrill of having averted the worst gave way to the realization of just how long the road ahead would stretch. There would be months of in-patient rehabilitation, and the uncertainty of which injuries would turn out to be permanent. I was needed at home - college would have to wait. I cried through most of a call with my dean, who helped me start the withdrawal process and assured me my scholarship would be waiting when I felt ready to return. As I finished the call, I was relieved to find Noah booking plane tickets - he’d already missed so much class to be with me. 

“Lee offered to pack my room up.” I sprawled next to Noah on the couch, emotionally and physically drained by this endless week.

“Great - I can swing by and ship it with my stuff.”

“Your stuff?”

“My stuff.” Noah repeated slowly. “My clothes. My books.”

“Why - why are you shipping those?”

“To move back here.” 

“WHAT?” I sat straight up and stared at Noah in confusion. “No. You’re not staying here. You’re going back. To Harvard. Which is not here.”

“Elle, I’m staying here with you.” He said this like the most obvious thing in the world. Like we had at any point discussed the possibility.

“Are you out of your mind? You have a year to go. Fellowships to apply to. Jobs to interview for.”

“And all of that can wait. When you go back, I’ll go back.”

“No. No. No no no no no. You’ve done enough. You’ve been amazing, and I can never thank you enough, but you are not putting your life on hold for me.” I could see White Knight Noah pulling on his armor and saddling his steed, and I was not having it. 

“I want to. I said I’d be here. With you. As long as it takes.”

“Noah, I’m going to be shuttling Dad to doctor’s appointments and making sure Brad does his homework. That doesn’t take two people. I can handle it. I don’t need you to drop out too.”

“Jesus, Shelly, has it occurred to you that maybe I just want to be here with you? I’m not putting my life on hold. This IS my life. Right now you need to be here. So I’ll be here too.”

I’ve played this conversation back a thousand times, searching for the tipping point. It’s coming now. You’ll remember that Noah and I once broke up because he made my decision not to go to Stanford all about him. Noble, noble, Noah, always ready to sacrifice himself for what he decided was best for me. His white knight complex didn’t magically disappear when we got back together, nor did my frustration with it. We just hadn’t had to confront them at this scale in two years. In the span of a week my life had turned upside down and now here was Noah throwing Harvard away.

“The son in law thing was funny at the hospital, but you know we’re not actually married, right?” I finally exploded. 

I saw Noah’s eyes go wide with anger. He jerked up from the couch and went to the window, turning his back to me.

“You say that like it’s unthinkable,” he finally bit out.

“Because it is! Because I’m twenty! Are you seriously telling me you think it’s - thinkable?”

“Not today, no! But forgive me if I thought it might be the best case scenario - someday. It’s - the end zone. I know we might not make it there, but I’m still going to throw the ball in that direction.” 

I think that’s a football metaphor. I am trying to figure out how to keep my family functioning and Noah is using a mothereffing football metaphor to justify throwing his life away to ride to my rescue. I walk over to Noah, who is still glaring resolutely out the window, and I wrap my arms around his waist.

“I’m tired, Noah, and I don’t know what we’re even fighting about right now. I love you. I need to be here with my family. You need to go back to Harvard. The end zone is far away. You cannot rearrange your life based on a hypothetical end zone.”

“Marry me.” 

The stubborn jackass went there. I tell Noah he’s insane for behaving like we’re married, Noah proposes. I don’t know if he realizes he just spite-proposed in order to win an argument or if he thinks he’s being sincere. Either way I cannot handle it.

“Noah, I am going to bed. We are both exhausted. We’re going to pretend this conversation never happened, and in the morning we’re going to talk like rational people about why I need to stay here and why you don’t.” 

Except in the morning we do not talk like rational people, because Noah is on his way to LAX before I wake up. The story doesn’t quite end there. There are painful phone conversations before the final explosion. Noah insisting he should come back, me shutting him down. Noah needing to help, me needing to stand on my own. We do not mention his insane proposal. Lee does his best to mediate, even though he’s still not clear on what exactly happened. _I_ am still not clear on what exactly happened. I guess you’ll have to ask Noah. 

I stayed in LA. I packed Brad’s lunches, drove him to school, washed his clothes, and tried to keep him from worrying about dad. Brad humored my attempts to teach him to dance. I visited Dad daily, rearranged the house to accomodate his walker once he finally came home, drove him to a thousand appointments, and dodged his questions about happened with Noah. Dad slowly got better. Lee and I spent long hours on the phone while mentioning Noah as little as possible. By summer it was clear Dad and Brad still needed me at home. UCLA accepted my transfer application. I restarted my junior year, made new friends, and tried not to miss Boston too much. Lee badgered me to date. Sometimes I did. A year later Dad told me I’d spent enough time as a nursemaid and surrogate mom, and made me go live on campus for my senior year. It was nice being a carefree college student again, responsible only for myself. Dad and Brad and I celebrated the two year anniversary of his survival with an epic family movie night. I marked the two year anniversary of the breakup by drunk dialing Lee and ranting about stubborn jackasses with savior complexes. I don’t know how Noah marked the anniversary. Lee told me he’d taken a job at a fancy prep school outside San Francisco, teaching and coaching. Noah’s plan to relive his glory days, Lee called it. 

—————

And so here I am, pretending to arrange my flowers and pull weeds from around Mom’s headstone, while covertly sneaking looks at Noah, wondering why he’s here. I know he’s seen me, and I know he knows I’ve seen him. He’s pretending to be engrossed in his book, but I catch him rubbing his neck, thrumming with nervous energy. I idly wonder what he’d do if I headed back to my car without acknowledging him. I don’t want to find out. It’s been a long two years, and now Noah’s made the first step. I can do this. I start walking to the bench.


	5. In Which We Finally Hear From Noah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switching to Noah’s POV for this chapter, and then alternating thereafter.

I’m starting to think this was a mistake, that I’m an unwelcome intruder on a private ritual. I know Elle has spotted me, but she’s carefully avoiding looking in my direction again. I’m still not entirely sure why I’m here. I’d known Mrs. Evans’s birthday was coming up, and then Lee oh so casually mentioned Mr. Evans and Brad would be out of town. (I’d laugh at the irony that Elle so often thinks _I’m_ the Flynn trying to puppeteer her life, but it’s a sore subject.) The idea of Elle alone on this day bothered me. And I missed her. This was hardly new, but after two years of hoping that anger at Elle would overtake missing of Elle, I was realizing the reverse had happened. 

I definitely started out angry. Angry at Elle for shutting me out, for interpreting my desire to help as lack of faith in her, for laughing at the idea that we had a long-term future worth putting college on hold for. Angry at both of us for escalating. Angry at Lee for not finding a way to talk sense into either of us. Then, later, angry at Lee for mentioning Elle too much. Or too little. Angry at Lee for telling me I’d have to call Elle myself if I wanted updates, and angry at myself for not calling. Angry at Elle for not calling. 

And then I guess I got tired of being angry. I figured Elle would call if Elle wanted to call. I focused on my senior year. I hung out with my teammates, I passed my classes, I went to parties, I met up with Lee and did not ask a single question about Elle. I interviewed for a lot of jobs and took the most unlikely one. I graduated. I spent the fewest possible days in LA before heading up to San Francisco. I passed the summer overhauling a vintage bike and getting ready to teach. And then, once the school year started, my days disappeared in a crush of early morning team workouts, teaching, afternoon practices, and then preparing to do it all over again the next day. All of a sudden it was June and I’d managed to survive a year of teaching and almost two without Elle.

I went to visit Lee, who had another year to go in his five-year program. This time I did ask about Elle, and Lee told me her number hadn’t changed and he wasn’t in the middle of this. I went to visit my parents and went on three runs around the neighborhood “to stretch my legs” before mom broke it to me the Evanses were out of town. But after that she found every excuse to drop updates about Elle into conversations. The second anniversary of the accident was the closest I came to actually hitting _send_ on a message to Elle. And then late October rolled around, Lee dropped his passive-aggressive comment about Elle being on her own this weekend, and I bought a plane ticket home. So here I am on this bench, reading a book whose pages I haven’t turned since Elle appeared. Just as I’m giving myself five more minutes before giving in and making the first move, I hear footsteps. 

Elle drops onto the bench beside me. Her hair is longer than I last saw it, but otherwise she’s just the same and it seems impossible that two years have passed. “Thanks,” she says after a long pause. She’s fiddling with her bracelet rather than looking at me. 

“For the flowers?”

“For remembering. For coming out here.”

I always remember this date, I want to reply. I have a whole Shelly calendar memorized. I just didn’t think I was welcome the past two years. I’m not sure how welcome I am this year, either, so I stay silent. 

“But thanks for the flowers, too. She would have loved them. She got me some like those once, for middle school graduation.”

“I know.” 

When Elle and I were dating and new friends would ask how we met, she’d always start the story with Lee and their epic friendship and wind up with “And then I realized his big brother was super hot.” It gets a good laugh, but sometimes I wish she’d mention that we’ve known each other forever too. 

“Not a coincidence, then?” Elle finally looks at me. 

“Nope.”

And then Elle shocks me by curling up on the bench with her head on my lap. It’s not unwelcome, just unexpected. 

“Can we just sit here a while? You can keep reading that book if you want. I just- want to sit here.” 

Sure, Elle, I’ll just read my book and wait for you to tell me what we’re doing. I realize as soon as the thought is complete how unfair it is. I’m the one who ambushed her today. So all I say out loud is “Sure.”

But I don’t pick up my book again. I sit and enjoy the moment, the warm weight of Elle curled against me. I am trying to remember what I’d planned to say if Elle showed up. I didn’t have much of a plan. Find Elle, see how she reacts. See how you react. Take it from there. I am tempted to reach for Elle’s hand, but I make myself keep my arms stretched across the back of the bench. I’m not sure how long we sit in this oddly companionable silence. 

“So, teaching high school. What’s that about?” Apparently Elle is ready to talk. 

“I crushed high school. I was legendary. I owe it to the next generation to pass on my wisdom.”

“Public service. Laudable.”

“And, you know, putting off the real world. Dad wanted me to go work for one of his buddies. My profs wanted me to apply to grad school. I wasn’t feeling a rush to decide.” Waiting to see what you’d do, I add silently. 

“I’m trying to picture you as a teacher. It’s not working. AP Motorcycle Maintenance?”

“Math, actually. And I coach.”

“Still not seeing it. Had they met you before hiring you to mold young minds? Did they know about the punching and brooding?” She says it with a grin, but it still stings. “Hey, I’m sorry. I was just being silly. I’m not actually surprised. I bet they love you.” Elle sits up and gives me a conciliatory smile. We sit in silence another minute. 

“I heard you were back in school. Still chemistry?” 

“Yeah. My advisor at BU helped me get into a lab here. And dad made me live on campus this year, said I needed to go back to being a normal college student.”

“And how is that, being a normal college student again?”

“Weird. Fun. But not as fun as Boston was.” Elle smiles wistfully. She’s leaning back against the bench now, and I am acutely aware of the brush of her hair against my arm. 

“Boston wasn’t as fun as Boston was, once you were gone.” I want to say more, then think better of it. I think this was the point I’d never managed to articulate back then. That staying in LA with Elle wouldn’t have been a sacrifice compared to being in Boston without her. That it was a selfish impulse, not a noble one. That I never doubted Elle’s ability to take care of her family herself. But it’s been two years and this debate is moot. 

“How long are you in LA for?” Elle has returned to a safer topic.

“The kids have Monday off. So until then, I guess.”

“Your parents must be glad to see you.”

“They’re out of town. They don’t know I’m here.”

“So you’re just here to escape the fog and enjoy some sunshine?”

“I’m here to see you.” I had considered and rejected several answers. I went with direct. “Figured you could use some company.”

Elle fusses with her bracelet again for a long minute before giving me a shy smile. “Well, maybe we can accomplish both of those. Enjoy the sunshine and the company. I’d been planning to go down to the pier, if you want to join me?”

Oh, yes, absolutely, Santa Monica pier, site of half our happiest high school memories. Definitely the best and least awkward location for... whatever it is we’re doing today. “As long as you understand the no-DDR rule stands.”

“Still intimidated by my superior talents, got it.”

It’s not Elle’s dance skills that have me nervous, but I let her lead the way back to the parking lot.


	6. Omelettes and Overtures

**(Elle POV)**

Noah and I had both driven to the cemetery, so I offer to follow him to his parents’ house and then drive us to the Pier. As I drive alone, the cautious hope I’d felt sitting next to Noah morphs into something more like panic. What exactly are we doing? Ten minutes of small talk after two years of silence, and now we’re going to hang out like old times? I wonder if Lee will kill me if I call for help. He’s made it clear he wants out of Noah’s and my disaster. But he’s my best friend and I’m calling anyway. 

“Lee’s House of Keep Me Out of This, how may I help you?” 

Shit. How does he always know? “Um, hi. What am I keeping you out of?” Maybe I can play dumb. 

“You tell me. Noah posted to his instagram from LAX last night and now you’re calling me. And I know Noah’s not visiting my parents because they’re here. And now I can tell from your guilty silence that I’m right. So how can I help you and yet also stay the hell out of it?”

“You know I love you very much.”

“Yes. And I haven’t murdered you or my idiot brother yet, so I must have some fondness for you. So what happened?”

“Noah was at the cemetery.” I don’t have to tell Lee why I was there. 

“And?”

“We talked. I mean, not about much. But it was nice.”

“And?”

“We’re going to hang out. At the Pier.” I can hear Lee sigh. “That was my plan for today! Before I had any idea Noah would appear. But then I... invited him along.”

“So here is all I’m going to say: maybe consider addressing what happened two years ago before you get naked.”

“Lee!”

“I’m serious, Elle. I’ve seen you guys together and I’ve seen you guys implode. I am the world’s expert on the Elle and Noah circus, much as I wish I weren’t. You’re very good at being together and very very bad at fighting. Before you get swept up in your nauseating hots for each other, figure out why you didn’t talk for two years. And that is all I’m going to say.”

“Ok.”

“Ok, I’m going to listen to you for once Lee?”

“Ok, those are fair points that I will definitely take under consideration.” Lee’s not wrong. I want to ask if he has any idea why Noah has suddenly chosen to reappear, if Noah has said anything, but I’ve already put Lee in the middle enough. I move us on to neutral topics. We catch up on classes, on wacky roommate stories, on Lee’s attempts to get over Kristina. Before I know it I’m driving up to the Flynn house and Noah has beaten me there. 

Right, Noah. Regarding whom I’m no closer to having a plan, or any guess as to his own intentions. 

I pull up to the entrance and wave Noah over, but he shakes his head and gestures to the door instead. Interesting. I park my car and join him at the door. 

“Lunch,” Noah tells me. “I was up early and it’s almost noon. I need real food before you start plying me with funnel cake and cotton candy.”

I can’t help but laugh. Noah’s college coaches turned him into a nutrition zealot, and Lee and I got lectured incessantly about our junk food habits when we were all in Boston together. We in turn teased Noah mercilessly about his protein bars and green smoothies, but I can’t deny the results. If ever a body deserved to be treated like a temple… but that’s a dangerous train of thought. Eyes up, Shelly. No getting distracted by your ex’s impossible hotness. I follow Noah in and perch awkwardly on one of the bar stools by the kitchen island. 

“You’re not going to make one of those disgusting smoothies with green things and tofu, are you?”

“Those green things are called vegetables, Elle. If you tried eating some your brain might be able to remember that. But no, no scary smoothies for you. I’m just making eggs.”

“You know, I do eat vegetables. I even kept Brad fed for two years with only a little bit of scurvy.”

Noah flinches slightly at the mention of the last two years. I wonder if he’s going to say something, and I think about Lee’s warning. But I’m not up to dealing with our past yet. I want to sit in the Flynn kitchen and have lunch with Noah like nothing happened and this is our normal weekend day. This could have been your normal weekend day, a traitorous inner voice whispers to me. Noah would have stayed and this could have been your life. I shove those thoughts back. 

“You need help with anything?” I ask Noah, looking to distract myself. He’s busy rooting through the refrigerator. 

“You could get some plates out, if you remember where they are. And find yourself something to drink.”

I watch Noah chop ham and peppers he found in the refrigerator and add them to the eggs he’d whisked. For all the time I’ve known him, this might still be the first time I’ve watched him cook. Lee and I loved to mess around in the kitchen, but back then Noah stuck to bowls of cereal when he wasn’t stealing what we’d cooked up. And then in Boston, we were living in dorms; trying not to set fire to the communal microwave was about the extent of our cooking efforts. As I watch Noah move easily around the kitchen, gathering ingredients and cooking an omelette like it’s nothing, I realize this may well be routine for him now. There are two years of his life I know almost nothing about. Noah slides the first omelette onto a plate and hands it to me, then pours the rest of the eggs into the pan.

I suddenly wonder if there’s a girlfriend to credit for this domesticity. I’ve been letting my thoughts run wild about what I do or don’t want to happen, and it hadn’t even crossed my mind that Noah might not be single. That he might not be interested in renewing things. I run through our interactions. He said he came to see me. And I could have sworn the look he gave me then was not particularly platonic. But I recall how he startled when I curled up against him on the bench. How he has yet to initiate any contact. But why would he be here? Why seek me out, on this of all days? And Lee wouldn’t have immediately leapt to warning me about, what did he call it, our “nauseating hots for each other” if he thought Noah wasn’t interested, would he? That one I’m not so sure about. I’m not even sure Lee would know if Noah is attached. I get the impression their relationship still has Elle-shaped sore spots. Argh. I could just play it cool. See what happens. Bring it up subtly - 

“Are you seeing anyone?” I blurt. Damn. I said that out loud. Lee is right. I have no chill. “I mean, this Chef Noah thing, it’s very impressive. And new. I was just wondering if it was… because of a girl.” I babble lamely in a hopeless attempt to recover. I am certain my cheeks are flaming. So smooth, Elle. 

Noah has turned to face me, an eyebrow raised and an odd expression on his face. Finally he smirks. “I guess that answers the question of whether Lee’s no-information-passing policy applies to you, too.”

I duck my head sheepishly. “He’s very adamant about it.” I mumble. But Noah has not answered my question. He has turned back to the stove and is sliding the second omelette onto a plate. 

“I’m a little offended, you know.” Noah walks over to the island with his plate and sits beside me. “You realize I’ve been out of college and fending for myself for a year, right? Did you think I was living on peanut butter sandwiches?”

“Yes? But this is delicious. So clearly I owe you an apology.” 

“Apology accepted. And no, not at the moment.”

“No?” Then I remember my original, mortifying question. “Oh. Ah. That’s good.” _That’s good?_ Dear god, why have I lost the ability to keep my internal monologue internal?

“Is it?” Noah is clearly enjoying my embarrassment.

“Yes.” Might as well be honest when you have no poker face.

“I’m glad you think so.” Noah’s grin has grown wider and his eyes are twinkling in a way I’d tried very hard to forget. And now he is looking at me expectantly. “And is this where you reciprocate?”

“What?” The grin and the twinkling distracted me. I’m not sure what we’re talking about now.

“Since you’ve decided it’s sharing time - are _you_ seeing anyone?”

“No.” That’s maybe not the whole truth. Lee made me a profile on a dating site last year, and every once in a while he talks me into going on a date with someone he’s found there. Most have been busts, but a few I’ve seen again. But nothing worth mentioning right now. And don’t think I didn’t notice that Noah said _not at the moment_. 

“Good.” Again with that twinkling.

We sit in silence for a bit and I wonder if we’re going to take this topic further. I can’t help thinking about the last time we were in this house together, about that fight gone so wrong. Lee is right that we need to talk, I just have no idea where to start. But I’m loath to disturb the easy rapport we’ve settled back into, and so instead I ask about the classes he’s teaching, about where he’s living, about the trips he took this summer. I catch Noah up on Dad’s progress, on Brad’s transformation into a tweenager, on projects in the lab where I work. We’ve finished eating by now, and Noah is cleaning up. 

“So, now that you’ve made me eat a proper lunch, can we move on to the funnel cake and cotton candy?” I do actually want to go to the Pier today. We always went for mom’s birthday when I was little. 

Noah rolls his eyes at me but grabs his jacket. He’s headed to the backyard, however. 

“My car is out front,” I remind him, following. 

“It’s a nice day, Shelly.” He’s got that wicked glint in his eye. “I’ve forgotten what sunshine is like after all that time up north. I was thinking something less… confining.” 

Of course. We are at the garage now and there it is, Noah’s original motorcycle. His stupid, terrifying, thrilling motorcycle. 

“Does this thing even run any more?” Noah had just been telling me about the new bike he has in San Francisco. 

“Of course. I tuned her up last time I was here.”

“Well, good for you. You enjoy your sunshine and I’ll meet you there.”

But Noah just shakes his head at me with that infuriating half-smile of his, and hands me a helmet. “That doesn’t sound very ecologically responsible, Elle. Driving an extra car when there’s room for you here.”

Room for me if I wrap myself around you, I think. If the goal was to talk before getting naked, as Lee so elegantly put it, this is almost certainly a terrible idea. But as I watch Noah straddle the motorcycle, I find I simply don’t care.


	7. Falling Again

**(Noah POV)**

 

I’m not sure when my intentions for today shifted from “see what happens” to “win Elle back.” Maybe over lunch, when I heard her laugh again. Maybe at the bench, when she curled up against me. Maybe the moment I saw her. Or maybe this was always the plan, and I just hadn’t admitted it to myself.

Whichever it was, here I am now, trying to suppress the goofy grin that threatens to surface every time Elle looks at me. I had solid reasons for being cautious today, and yet I’m choosing to forget them all, because two years of trying to ignore my feelings for Elle doesn’t seem to have reduced her hold on me at all. So if Elle is set on heading to the Pier, I know how I’d like to get us there. 

I do wonder if I’ve miscalculated when Elle hesitates at the sight of the motorcycle. But no, there it is, that smile I’d like to believe Elle reserves for me, and then there she is, stepping over the seat and wrapping her arms around my waist.

We set off and the rumble of the engine forces us to retreat into silence. I try to remember the last time we’d ridden together. Probably the summer before my senior year, before Elle’s dad’s accident. We’d both spent that summer in Boston, Elle in her lab and I at an internship, but we’d flown home for Elle and Lee’s birthday, and that weekend Elle and I had ridden all the way to Santa Barbara for an anniversary picnic. Elle loves any excuse to celebrate, so we had a collection of anniversaries. The kissing booth. That night under the Hollywood sign. Elle’s birthday party. The beach house weekend that ended our first breakup. I wonder if this weekend will end up on our calendar, too. 

Lee worked in Seattle that summer, so for the first time I had Elle entirely to myself. I love my brother, and I’ve long accepted he will always have his own hold on Elle’s heart, but you can’t blame me for relishing a summer without our third wheel. Maybe more accurately, a summer without sometimes feeling like the third wheel in my own relationship. A summer to let myself believe I’d earned my own piece of Elle’s heart, separate and independent from Lee’s. I had a year of college left, and soon I’d need to figure out what to do next. That summer, those three months of seeing Elle nearly every day after work and all weekend - I realized that’s what I wanted for whatever came next. I needed Elle by my side. 

Look, I wasn’t serious when I threw out that proposal during our fight. I was frustrated and confused by Elle’s sudden hostility to me staying, and I was trying to get her to listen. But I also wasn’t… _not_ serious. I was serious about wanting to stick around. Indefinitely. Even if it meant sacrifices on other fronts. But I guess Elle set me straight that night on my place in her long-term planning, or lack thereof.

And maybe Elle was right that we were ridiculously young. I certainly did my best to catch up on age-appropriate socializing when I found myself back at Harvard, single, and that first summer in San Francisco. Lee made snide comments about my being a born-again manwhore. And then I started teaching and all my time disappeared, and Lee made snide comments about my being a monk. It’s likely that Lee disapproves of every form of my social life, and I’ve stopped updating him. I’m sure he’ll have opinions on whatever is happening right now. But I guess that depends on what exactly _is_ happening right now, and that one’s still up in the air. I’m liking my chances though. Elle has kept her arms wrapped tight around me for the whole ride, her hands tucked under my jacket, and if she keeps tracing light patterns through my shirt with her fingertips I’m going to need a minute to collect myself before I can step off this motorcycle with dignity. 

We arrive at the Pier and can finally hear each other again as I turn the engine off. But Elle seems in no rush to unwrap herself from me.

“Happy now?” I ask. I have parked us as close as possible to Elle’s favorite food carts. 

“Hrrmmmm?” Elle sounds like she’s being woken from a very pleasant nap.

“The Pier, Elle. We’re here. I believe you had some elaborate plans involving funnel cake and cotton candy and - well, actually, I think that might have been your whole plan.” Elle finally lifts herself from the motorcycle and I follow, resisting the temptation to grab her hand. I may have decided what I want, but I’m still waiting on Elle’s move. 

Once Elle has obtained her ridiculous pink and purple cloud of sugar, I lead us toward the beach. Elle is telling a convoluted story about a prank she and her roommate pulled on their neighbors, but I’m not so much listening to her words as I am enjoying watching Elle tell the story, her hands animatedly waving tufts of cotton candy to punctuate her giggling narration, her face lit up with glee. It’s warm for late October, and we’ve kicked our shoes off to walk through the shoreline surf. 

“Hey, Noah. Earth to Noah!” Elle has stopped and is waving the remaining cotton candy in my face.  She must have noticed my lack of attention to her elaborate story. “I’m sorry, are these college hijinks too juvenile for your attention? Are you distracted by all your serious grownup teacher thoughts?”

I snatch the cotton candy and hold it out of her reach. “No, I was just worrying what this fluorescent sugar mess is doing to your brain. This isn’t food, Elle. This is a science experiment gone wrong.”

“No candy police, Noah! We’ve discussed this!” 

Three years ago, but who’s counting? I keep the cotton candy high above my head as Elle leaps for it. She absolutely hates when I use my height against her, which is exactly why I do it. 

“Oh, so _this_ is how it’s going to be?” Elle raises an eyebrow at me, and I smirk triumphantly. But the instant I do, Elle swipes my sunglasses in one smooth sweep of her arm and takes off running. I chase after her and am about to catch up when my foot catches on a toy shovel buried in the sand. I tumble into her, and suddenly we are wet, sandy, and dangerously tangled. There’s really only one way this can end, and maybe I should thank whoever left behind the shovel for accelerating the inevitable. Elle and I face off, daring each other to make the first move. In the end it’s a tie; I dive for Elle’s lips as she grabs my shoulders to pull me in.  

It has been two years, one month, three weeks, and some number of days since we did this, and we were idiots to have ever stopped. Idiots who are currently lying in damp sand at the water’s edge, as the next wave rudely reminds us. I roll us away from the water, and now we are thoroughly soaked, disgustingly sandy, and both laughing hysterically. I brush some sand off Elle’s cheek and kiss her again, this time slowly and deliberately. This might be our least comfortable makeout location ever, and yet we linger, rediscovering familiar rhythms. Eventually, Elle pushes me away gently and sits up next to me. I wrap an arm around her and we just sit, enjoying the moment.

“You owe me sunglasses. Those were my favorites.” I smile into Elle’s hair as I say this. 

“Yeah, well, think about that next time you want to steal my candy.”

And I will. I’m hoping for a lot of next times. But for now I pull Elle closer, hoping to keep us warm a little longer before we need to deal with wearing soaked clothes on a breezy day.


	8. Muscle Memory

**(Elle POV)**

 

I realize as Noah pulls out of the driveway and the roar of the engine halts conversation that the motorcycle ride has bought us both time to think. Of course, my attempts at rational thought are made complicated by his wearing of a thin canvas jacket providing blessedly little insulation from the warmth of his skin and the rhythmic rise of his breathing. Surely letting myself enjoy this doesn’t count as rushing into anything? But of course I press myself against the broad planes of his back more tightly than safety could possibly require, and I let my hands wander under the lapels of his jacket. I chase the past two years from my mind and pretend this ride is entirely ordinary again. It is my junior year and we are dashing from the Flynn house to escape Lee’s notice. It is my senior year and Noah has surprised me with a weekend visit. It is my first summer home from college and we are revisiting all our favorite hideaways. It is my twentieth birthday, the last ride I can remember, and we are celebrating three years together. I’ve expended a lot of energy in the past two years avoiding memories like these. When I couldn’t manage to avoid thoughts of Noah entirely, I made myself focus on the squabbles, the tensions, the final blowout. Now the pleasant memories I’d shoved away are rushing back, and I let myself linger in their warmth. My hands have drifted ever lower down Noah’s torso, my fingertips tracing and recognizing every contour, and my resolve to talk before we leap is disappearing fast. I tell myself the physical side of our relationship always preceded the emotional, usually to our benefit. Would we have ever dared a first step without the pretext of the kissing booth? Would we have spent as many hours discovering and building our connection in those first months, if we hadn’t been driven by our physical craving for each other? We should talk, and we will - once we’ve connected again. Once we’ve rekindled the fire that drove us together. I’m so deep into our most pleasant memories that I hardly notice when we arrive. 

Noah makes a show of cringing at my cotton candy choices, and I smile as we slip into familiar banter. It’s strange and wonderful being here again, together. I am tempted to take Noah’s hand, to loop my arm around his waist, to pull him down for a kiss, and yet I do none of those. I pause at the precipice and let myself enjoy the view, enjoy the thrill, before we give in to the inevitable. And when we do tip over the edge, when we literally go tumbling into the surf and find ourselves tangled and tantalizingly close, the kiss is no less thrilling for having been expected. 

Now we are sat side-by-side on the beach, Noah’s arm wrapped around me, my head tucked under his chin, and I could happily stay in this moment forever. I haven’t forgotten Lee’s warning, but I’m starting to think we can manage both at once, acknowledging the past while enjoying the moment. Letting our attraction smooth the way as it always has.

“I missed this. I missed you.” I twist to snuggle closer into Noah’s chest. The bright sun is almost enough to distract from the chill of our wave-drenched outfits, so long as I stay tucked tight against his side.

“What made you come down this weekend?” I finally feel brave enough to ask.

“I told you. To see you.” Noah had looked hesitant admitting that earlier today. Now he says it with a relaxed smile.

“But why this weekend? Now?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Seeing you, I mean. And then you were going to be alone for your mom’s birthday. I just… didn’t like that.”

I don’t really have an answer to that other than to snuggle deeper into Noah. Except - 

“Wait, how did you know? That I’d be alone?” I wonder briefly if Dad told June, and June told Noah.

“Lee told me.” 

“ _ Lee _ ? Oh, I am going to  _ kill  _ him.”

Noah’s eyebrows rise. “Because you’re upset I’m here?”

“No! I’m glad you came down. Very, very glad. But that little sneak had the audacity to tell me to keep him out of it when I called! As if he hadn’t- sent you down here!”

“You called Lee? When?”

“In the car, on the way to your house - I was confused! I thought he might know why you’d shown up! And he played dumb, that jackass, and lectured me about not putting him in the middle!”

“Are we now finally having the conversation where you realize Lee is every bit the meddler you once accused me of being? Because if it’s time for that, I have these notes I’ve been keeping for, oh, six or seven years…” Noah is grinning and pretending to reach into his pocket.

“IT BEING A FAMILY TRAIT DOES NOT MAKE IT BETTER.” But I can’t suppress my smile for long. I guess this intervention was slightly more subtle than stranding us at the beach house together. “Classic Lee, huh?”

“One day you’re really going to have to explain to me why it’s so endearing to you when he pulls these stunts, and yet so terrible for me to have opinions about what you or we should do.” Noah is still smiling, but his tone is only half-joking.

That one’s easy - because my feelings for Lee have never terrified me. Because I can choose to ignore Lee’s opinions about my love life, but I can’t ignore Noah’s. But I don’t feel like wandering into the landmine-strewn Lee-Elle-Noah triangle right now.

“Like I said, Lee will be hearing about this. But I’m also having trouble feeling overly enraged right now, when this was the result. Nor is Lee what I want to spend the afternoon talking about.” I punctuate this last sentence with a series of kisses across Noah’s jaw, whispering the last words just beside his ear before sitting back to see his face.

“And is that your plan for this afternoon - to  _ talk _ ?” The edge has disappeared from Noah’s voice, and that damn twinkling is back in his eyes.

Talking is absolutely what our plan should be. But instead I reach for Noah again, and look him in the eye as I trail my fingertips over his lips.

“Mmm, yes. We’re going to  _ talk  _ about how to get back home without freezing in these sopping clothes. And once we’re warm and dry we can  _ talk _ about the rest of our plans for this weekend.”

“This weekend?”

“You don’t have to go back until Monday night, right?” I flatten my palm against the curve of his cheek and can feel his answering smile before I see it.

“Nope.”

“So yes, a whole weekend to make plans for.”

“I have some ideas.” Noah’s voice has roughened and the look in his eyes does nothing to tame the heat already racing through my veins. I am on the verge of pushing him down to the sand and exploring these  _ ideas  _ of his when a pack of kids races past us, reminding me of the urgency of a less public setting for our discussions. So instead of pushing Noah down, I stand and pull him up with me.

“Come on. I said step one was getting home, and this wind is freezing me.” Home. The Flynn house wasn’t actually home for either of us anymore, and yet it always would be in some way. I lead the way back to the boardwalk and the shops.

As carefully as I’d avoided contact when we first arrived at the beach, still reeling from the memories I’d indulged in during our motorcycle ride, now I give my hands free rein to clasp Noah’s hands, to trace down his back and settle at the hard edge of his hip as we walk, to use the excuse of brushing away sand to flutter over every inch of warm skin within reach. There’s a boutique with cutesy sportswear nearby, and in their dressing room I trade my wet and sandy jeans and shirt for the first remotely fitting pants I’d spotted on the racks and a long-sleeved shirt embroidered with palm trees and fish. I think I look absolutely ridiculous, but only until I see what Noah’s found. 

“Don’t even.” His look tells me he is quite aware of his own ridiculousness. 

“Look, you have only your own inability to run on sand without tripping to blame for this. Don’t they make football players do footwork drills? I hear some pros take ballet to improve their agility. Something for you to consider.”

I continue to tease Noah as we pay up and escape the shop. We slowly wander back to where we’d parked, pausing to revisit a few favorite hangouts and hideaways. 

“So, your place or mine?” Noah is grinning as he hands me my helmet, but there’s hesitation behind the smile.

“I live in student housing with a roommate and you’ve got your parents’ ridiculous mansion to yourself. Not to mention my car is there.” A very nosy roommate who has heard a few too many Noah stories, not all of them fairly told, and will be sure to have more questions than I care to answer at the moment.

“Fair points. My place it is.”

Being wrapped around Noah on his motorcycle is no less pleasant the second time, and now made all the more thrilling by anticipation. I ignore the nagging voice in my head, disturbingly Lee-sounding, that reminds me we have yet to discuss anything beyond mutual gladness at seeing each other again. We have two days ahead of us to work out the details. 

The tension is electric by the time we arrive back at his house, and yet we take our time. Noah has an arm looped around me as he unlocks the door, and I lean into his warmth like coming home together is an everyday occurrence. I sense Noah hesitate once we’re inside, and so I take the lead, walking us up the stairs to his room. Once there, I push myself up on the balls of my feet to raise my lips to Noah’s, carefully kissing him, trying my best to keep my impatience at bay. Noah’s arms wrap around me, lifting me to him and walking us backward towards his bed.

“You’re still too short.” Noah has scooped me up and sat us both on his bed, evening our height differential.

“Deal with it. Which you seem to remember how to do.” We are laughing against each other’s lips, alternating sweet gentle kisses and deeper more frantic ones. Our hands are busy too, roving to rediscover familiar territory. Noah’s fingers wind through my hair as we let ourselves fall back against the bed, and I start releasing the buttons of his shirt one by one. Too soon, though, Noah pulls back a fraction and props himself on an elbow to look at me.

“Yes, Noah?” I am eager to return to my unbuttoning project.

“We are still disgustingly sandy.”

“And?”

“Do you like sleeping in sandy beds?”

I scowl at Noah’s sudden and uncharacteristic concern for neatness. “So go sleep in the guest bed if you’re so fussy.”

“I have a better idea.” Noah is smirking, and I suddenly realize where this is going. Never has Noah passed up an opportunity to talk me into a coed shower, and never have I needed much convincing. And yet I do hesitate now. It’s been two years, and we have barely done more so far today than kiss. As sure as I am of where this is headed, the thought of just stepping out of my clothes and into a shower with Noah is rather terrifying. Terrifying and yet unquestionably appealing. Noah seems to sense my hesitation.

“I didn’t mean to rush you, Elle. It’s just- we are pretty gross. But we can shower separately. That would definitely be the more reasonable option, considering… everything.” Ironically, it’s Noah’s hesitant expression that convinces me. As long as we’re both feeling equally nervous about it…

“And waste all that water, after you lectured me about not driving an extra car? Come on, we’ll keep the lights low and I promise not to peek.” And now I’m the one smirking as I slide off the bed and hold a hand out to Noah, inviting him to follow.


	9. Really Here

_**(Noah POV)** _

“Come on, we’ll keep the lights low and I promise not to peek.” Elle’s grin evaporates any second thoughts I might have had about this ridiculous idea.

This is the problem with me and Elle. I make these very reasonable plans, and then Elle smiles at me and I forget that I even had a plan, let alone what it was. Like today’s plan to talk things out and apologize for disappearing to Boston mid-fight and figure out where we are now. We’re still ignoring the first two items, and yet the answer to the third seems to be “sharing a shower.” Which would have been completely ordinary two years ago, and which we seem to have agreed to pretend is still completely ordinary. But of course it isn’t.

Elle does not make good on her promise not to peek. At first we mostly keep to opposite ends of the shower, washing sand and salt off and sneaking appreciative glances at each other, but now Elle turns to me, holding out the shampoo. “It’s your fault my hair is full of sand,” she reminds me with a smile, and we both know my answering eye roll is entirely for show, because we both know it’s not a proper shower unless Elle convinces me to wash her hair.

Several times in college Elle tried to keep bottles of her own hair stuff in my room, and each time they mysteriously went missing. There were some caveman impulses I was willing to quash for Elle--not punching every guy who hit on her, not voicing opinions on the shortness of her skirts--but damned if I wasn’t going to make sure she smelled of my shampoo and my soap every chance I got. The moderately civilized version of marking my territory. So yes, there were ulterior motives for all those offers to wash her hair. Not to mention the satisfied sounds that working the lather through her hair usually elicited, and where those reactions usually led us. Today’s shower is no different, with lingering caresses turning to increasingly heated kisses, but I make myself slow down. It has been a long two years, and I have plans better suited to the warm bed awaiting us.

I step out of the shower first and dry off, then hold a fresh towel out to Elle, no longer pretending not to stare. She too seems to be enjoying the view.

“You should only wear this. Ever.” She jokes, waving at the towel wrapped around my hips.

“Yes, this will go over great for teaching. I see you understand dress codes as well as ever.”

“I’m just saying, I have fond memories of you in this outfit, lecturing me about poor drinking choices.”

“Showing concern for your wellbeing, not lecturing.”

“Whatever. The view made it easier to tune out your nagging.”

“I’m sorry, what? This view was distracting me from your sass.”

“If you find my towel too distracting, I’m happy to get rid of it. I see something more comfortable anyway.”

The shirt I’d slept in last night is hanging on the door hook, and before I can object Elle has traded her towel for it. Not that I _would_ object, because Elle in my shirts rivals Elle smelling of my shampoo among civilized territory-marking favorites.

“Thief.”

“Feel free to reclaim it.”

“Gladly.” I grab Elle and haul her over my shoulder. We’ve had quite enough of the banter portion of this encounter.

Elle is still giggling irresistibly as I walk back into my room and drop her on the bed. I try to be discreet about glancing into the bedside table drawer, but Elle notices and smirks, then raises an eyebrow at my suddenly alarmed look.

“The mighty Flynn caught unprepared?”

“Yes, because I so frequently take girls back to my parents’ house these days.” I glare.

“Wallet?”

I have to pause and think about it, but no. In retrospect, not predicting this outcome was idiotic. “Nope. Again, you may be overestimating the socialization time available to me.” Elle looks skeptical. “And, fine, I keep them in my other wallet. Currently located in San Francisco. Please tell me you are better prepared?”

“Oh yeah, I totally grabbed my date purse this morning.” Elle’s look reminds me that she had even less reason to plan for this.

“ _Lee’s room_.” We say it nearly simultaneously. But either Lee no longer keeps a stash here, or he’s changed his favorite hiding spots, because we come up empty. And I’m certain this is not a question we should be calling to ask him.

“I can be back in 20 minutes,” I promise, rifling through my duffel for clothes.

Elle places a hand on my arm, stilling it. “I’m still on the pill. Do we need extra protection for… other reasons? I got tested recently and there haven’t been any opportunities to change those results since then. Can I assume that you’re usually better prepared than today?”

I’m not quite sure what Elle thinks I’ve been up to since our breakup, but at least she assumes I’m responsible about it. “I’m clear for the same reasons you are.”

“So… I see no reason for you to leave this house. Our mutual recent lack of social life has saved the day.” Elle is smiling triumphantly, and I believe we’ve discussed what happens with me and reasonable plans when Elle smiles at me. And this time she’s doing that smiling while sitting on my bed, wearing nothing but my shirt, fresh from a shower where she made her intentions clear. This is a scene that has featured in my dreams of the past two years far more often than I care to admit, but this time I have good reason to believe I’ll be waking up happy, not disappointed.

  
  


And I do wake up happy. Extremely happy, though not remotely well-rested, given the activities leading to our passing out for the brief nap from which I’ve just awoken. It had still been light out when we fell into bed, and when I glance at the clock I am delighted to realize it’s barely nine in the evening. There’s still an entire night ahead of us, and then all of Sunday and most of Monday. And after that… that’s the part we need to figure out.

Elle is still asleep, curled on her left side with her naked back pressed against me, only half covered by the sheet. I sit up just enough to be able to watch her. When I look carefully, I can see the subtle changes of two years. Her face just slightly sharper, her hair a little more sunstreaked, the curve of her hip a little fuller, a few new freckles. And then I notice them - three tiny stars on her right shoulder blade. I might have missed them if not for their pale blue ink. I wonder if she’ll tell me the story behind those.

Watching Elle sleep reminds me of our last summer in Boston. My internship was a lot closer to BU than Harvard, so I’d spent most nights with Elle. I’d go out for a morning run and bring back coffees, and by the time I returned Elle would be halfway willing to get up, especially if I’d grabbed muffins along with the coffees. Or she’d drag me back into bed to wake her up properly. Back then I’d thought we had it figured out. Sure, we were young, even younger than we realized then. But we’d made it so far. We’d gotten past a year of separation and all the stupid squabbles of adjusting to college life. We’d settled into a balance with Lee where all our intertwined relationships finally seemed to complement rather than compete with each other. We were sorting out what we wanted to be studying, what we wanted to be doing after college. And it started to seem believable we’d make that post-college leap together, too. Maybe not seamlessly, but we’d figure it out, just like we’d figured out college. And then suddenly we were on opposite coasts and it all fell apart. So that’s the first mistake I’m not going to repeat - not staying.

I first told Elle I loved her five and a half years ago. I meant it then, and I’ve meant it each time since, just increasingly so. More meaningfully so. That’s not a knock on eighteen year old me, just honesty. The last time I said it was probably in the midst of the breakup. It may have been said with anger and sadness that last time, but only because I still meant it. Second mistake I’m not repeating - not continuing to say it as long as it took us to straighten our shit out. Telling myself it would stop being true if I got mad enough. Letting myself believe it had actually stopped being true - I figured out the hard way that _that_ one was a lie. Elle and I skated over our post-breakup dating lives during that awkward little condom chat, but it’s been at least three phases for me. A lot of stupid hookups my last semester at Harvard - the angry phase. Meeting someone I actually took seriously that first summer after graduation. Someone who took me seriously, too. Until she told me she loved me and I realized I didn’t love her. Not the way I’d loved Elle. So maybe call that the denial phase, followed by understanding. And after that, nothing significant. Some dates friends insisted on setting up. And then the point when I accepted I still missed Elle. The slightly more recent point when I decided to do something about it. Now today’s realization that loving Elle had never been past-tense. So that’s the third mistake not to repeat: thinking that getting over Elle was feasible, let alone desirable.

Elle is stirring now, so I let myself trail my fingers down her arm. She sighs happily, then stills.

“Noah?” She whispers, her voice rough.

I scoot back down to curl around her, wrapping my right arm across her to reach for the hand she has tucked under the pillow. “Yeah?”

“You’re really here.”

“Of course.”

“I thought maybe I was dreaming.”

“Really here, Elle.” And not going anywhere.


	10. Idyll, Spiral

**(Elle)**

 

_Sunday_

The sun is high in the sky by the time I wake fully, and I lazily marvel at the unexpected turn my weekend has taken. I’d had a quiet, solitary Saturday planned. I was going to visit Mom, have one of our chats, tell her all my latest stories. How things are finally close to normal again after two crazy years. How I’m living on my own again. How well Dad is doing. How hilarious Brad has become. How the tight knot of panic that gripped me for two years has finally started to loosen. And then I’d go wander around the Pier, sit on the beach, maybe see if the arcade ever scrubbed off the tiny graffiti Lee and I added to the dance pad before graduation. Call my roommate and see if she wanted to get dinner.

The Saturday I’d planned would have been good, and yet I’ve never been so glad to have plans completely derailed. I hear the derailer of those plans moving around downstairs. I’d half awoken earlier this morning to see him dressing for a run; how Noah had the energy or will to get up early after all the sleep we didn’t get last night is beyond me, but he’s always been the early riser to my night owl.

I go searching through Noah’s dresser for a fresh shirt and shorts to steal, but the drawers are empty. I realize anew that he doesn’t live here anymore, that he must have moved all his stuff to wherever it is he lives in San Francisco. The closet is similarly picked over, just old school uniforms and sports gear. I debate whether Lee’s or June’s closet would be less weird to raid before remembering I still have swimsuits stashed in Lee’s room.

“Interesting outfit.” Noah laughs as I walk down the stairs in one of his old uniform shirts over a bikini.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly plan for an overnight yesterday.”

“Oh, no complaints here. I’m pretty sure this exact outfit featured heavily in at least three of my favorite high school fantasies.”

Noah seems to be busy cooking, and I realize I’m starving. We never got around to dinner last night.

“Coffee?” I ask hopefully.

“In that thermal carafe on the island.” Noah replies. “I figured that would be your first demand once you dragged your lazy ass out of bed.”

“You do know me.”

“Know you, and fear your undercaffeinated rages.”

I’d grumble at him but I’m too grateful for the coffee. “Are those… pancakes?”

“Mom and Dad didn’t exactly leave the kitchen stocked for guests, so pancakes and scrambled eggs were the best I could do.”

“Hmmm. I’m starting to suspect that whole thing yesterday about cooking for yourself was a little exaggerated. You really just know how to make breakfast.” Let’s not think about whether that’s because mornings are when he most often entertains guests.

“Continue mocking and those steaks I found in the freezer will not get grilled later.”

“You know, we’re not marooned on a desert island. We could… leave the house and find food.”

“In that outfit? We’re staying right here.”

_______________

The rest of Sunday into Monday passes in this kind of unhurried bliss. Just me and Noah, the house to ourselves, catching up on two years of missing each other. My roommate thinks I went home for the weekend. Dad and Brad think I stayed on campus. Other than Lee, no one knows Noah is in town. No one knows the two of us are cozied up at the Flynn house.

The weekend feels like a moment outside of time, separate from our daily lives; a delightful, unreal blip in the space-time continuum. For the first time in two years, I feel entirely back to my old self. I am taking care of no one, worrying about no one, responsible for no one, except myself. The last two years slide away and I even catch myself thinking “when we get back to Boston,” before remembering we’ve both left Boston for good.

And then there is Noah. Noah who is both so much the same and so different from the boy I’d known. Every once in a while a new facet of this older Noah reveals itself. There’s the cooking, of course. The chuckling way he talks about his students and their high school dramas, like he’s decades detached from that life. The weekends he spends canvassing for candidates and causes. The new favorite bands, the stories about friends whose names I’ve never heard before. He updates me on Harvard friends I’d known, and the era of engagements has started - he already has two weddings to attend next summer. It’s like everyone grew up and moved on while I was back living at home.

And yet, he is still my Noah. The same sly grin, the same roughening of his voice with emotion, the same heated gaze that stops me in my tracks. We cannot keep our hands off each other as we make up for two years apart. He still knows the exact spot below my ear that makes me tremble. He traces the curve of my hip, the contour of my breast, the dip at the small of my back like he’s rediscovering long-lost treasures. I find I haven’t lost the ability to daze him just by drifting my fingertips over his lips. To make him groan with anticipation and send a tremor rippling down all the way down to his toes just by whispering in his ear. We make love hard and fast, and then more tenderly than I ever remember, and then fiercely again. We fall asleep sated and wake up ravenous. And sometimes it’s enough just to curl together and listen to each other breathe.

We don’t leave the house at all on Sunday, and I ditch my Monday classes. I decide this is my time to be irresponsible, impulsive, carefree. I text my roommate that I’m staying home another night. Noah’s flight is Monday evening and I intend to seize every minute before returning to reality.

I try to think about what’s next. I imagine weekend visits when we can manage it. Going to San Francisco to discover this whole new life of his. I wonder whether and what to tell my dad. And Lee, who’s been conspicuously quiet since our call. I am tempted several times to message him, hesitating between cryptic updates and heartfelt rejoicing and confused outpourings, and in the end sending nothing. But worry is creeping in nonetheless. We still haven’t addressed the breakup, or acknowledged that two years passed without contact. We’ve talked about some of the events of the past two years, about what we’d each been up to, but never about why we needed to do this catching up, why there’d been a two year silence. I’m afraid to bring it up. Afraid to break the spell that seems to have come over us, the unspoken agreement to pick up where we left off.

_______________

_Monday afternoon_

“So how long are you going to teach? You any closer to deciding what’s next?” We are stretched out on pool loungers, enjoying the midday sun. Noah has an evening flight back to San Francisco, but we both seem to be ignoring the imminent return of our regular lives. I force myself to broach the topic.

“You tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“What’s next. For you. I’ll be there.”

“Noah, be serious.” I say it lightly.

“I am serious. I like my job, but I never meant for it to be forever. I took it because I wasn’t sure what I wanted next, and it’s been great, but I didn’t get any closer to figuring out the long term. Or at least, not until this weekend. What I want for the long term is to be with you. So when you decide what’s next for you, I’ll figure something out. With you.”

I am simultaneously thrilled and unsettled by Noah’s words. “Noah, you can’t put this all on me. ‘Follow Elle’ is not a career plan.”

“I’m not going to do nothing, relax. I have job options. Or I could go back to school. Or I could keep teaching. That all could be good. So the way I’m going to pick is to do the one that’s near you. Because I have several years of being with you and of not being with you to compare now, and my conclusion is that being with you is better.”

It sounds completely reasonable when he says it. I almost let myself believe it would be. If we ignore that those years of being together were, well, years ago, and that we’ve just now begun again.

“Noah, I- I have no idea what’s next for me. I know I’m graduating next spring, but I have no idea what comes after.”

“Grad school? Is that not still the plan?”

Getting my PhD had been the vague plan, two years ago. So of course Noah assumes it’s what’s next. Because he’s missed two years.

“Maybe. I don’t know. My advisor really wants me to go, but I’m not sure. Maybe I should work for a few years first. Or stay near home until Brad finishes high school.”

Committing to five years of grad school seems like a lifetime. A decision way too big to make right now.

“Well, you don’t need to know now. I’m just saying, when you do decide, let me know. Then I’ll figure out my plan.” He sounds so relaxed about it, so confident. And the more certain Noah acts, the more panicked I feel.

The feeling spreads, and I can feel my heart start to race. Noah is being incredibly sweet, but he’s adding another layer to the anxiety of figuring out what comes next. I’ve just started feeling my life is my own again after two years of putting Dad and Brad first, like I can make decisions and try things and make mistakes with only me to worry about.

And it’s not that I don’t want Noah there, wherever it is I end up. I do, as this weekend has vividly reminded me. But I don’t want the responsibility of deciding for both of us. I want Noah to figure out what _he_ wants to do, not just follow me. And I don’t want to think about any of it just yet. I want to savor this weekend and make plans for another weekend together as soon as possible, but I don’t want to worry about graduation or next year or five years from now. I just want to… be in this moment. Enjoy it. Without the weight of expectation.

I’m searching for the right words to explain this when Noah cuts me off at the pass.

“Elle, don’t do this.” Noah reaches for my hand and gently wraps it in his.

“Do what?”

“Freak out. I know that look.”

“I’m not freaking out. I just - can’t we just enjoy today and not worry about next year yet?”

“I’m not worried about next year. I told you, we’ll figure it out.”

“No, you told me to tell you what I’m doing so you can decide what you’re doing. Which is - a lot of responsibility.” I try to keep my voice from climbing.

“I didn’t mean it that way. Elle, I’m not trying to rush you. All I was trying to say was to count me in, for whatever you decide.”

“No! That’s - exactly what I’m talking about. I already don’t know what I want. Now you’re saying I need to decide for both of us.”

“Elle, you’re reading way too much into this. I’m not asking you to decide anything for me. I’m not even asking you to decide anything for you, not right now. All I’m saying is that I plan to be there. Simple as that.”

He sounds so reassuring and I desperately wish I believed it were that simple.

“How can you be so _certain_ about everything? It’s been two days, Noah.”

Noah’s eyes flash at this, and he stares at me for a minute before replying. “Not two days, Elle. _Six years_.”

Damn, he’s still good with the lines. But he’s also glossing over the history. Six years in which we broke up twice - three if I count his disappearing act before prom - and didn’t speak for two. Six years in which we were barely out of our teens the last time we were together.

“I’m not sure you get to count the last two years.” I finally answer.

Noah’s expression darkens. “You can’t blame that one on me, Elle. I wanted to stay, you laughed at me and told me I wasn’t needed. And now you’re doing it all over again, freaking out and pushing me away.”

I guess we’re finally having that talk. “I never laughed at you. Never.” Of this I am certain.

“You reacted like I was a lunatic for wanting to stay. Like the idea I might prioritize you, might prioritize us was ridiculous. Elle, I did what you asked. What you said you wanted. I went back to Harvard and finished up and got on with my life. And now -”

“Yeah, that you did.” I interrupt bitterly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Getting on with your life - it didn’t exactly take long.”

“What are you talking about? I spent that entire fall hoping that once things settled down with your dad you’d stop shutting me out and call me.”

“And in the meantime you kept busy with all those Harvard girls I’d made you miss out on.” Noah just stares at me oddly.

“Is that what Lee was telling you?” He finally asks.

“No.” Lee and I avoided the Noah topic entirely.

“Look, Elle, you’re clearly pissed about something, so just tell me what it is.”

“Abbi. She came back for spring break and I ran into her. Had lots of stories for me. Some great pictures, too.” Abbi Spindler, the other Los Angeles Country Day grad in Noah’s dorm at Harvard. I’d almost been ready to call Noah by then. Until Abbi’s photographic evidence of how very little he missed me.

“Abbi is a gossip and I’m guessing she wildly exaggerated everything she told you. But yes, I went to parties. I hooked up with some girls. Months after we’d broken up. Are we seriously fighting about this now?”

“I’m just saying, don’t make it sound like you were the steadfast Galahad pining away and waiting for crazy me to figure her shit out.”

“I… don’t even know where to start with that one. I think we are now firmly into airing-of-grievances territory, our favorite game that no one wins.”

Yeah, we suck at fighting. As Lee so helpfully warned me. But it doesn’t seem to have helped.

At some point in this exchange I had let go of Noah’s hand and curled into a tight ball at the edge of the lounger, my legs pulled to my chest and my arms wrapped around them. Noah’s right that I’m just sniping at him. And yet I can’t stop pressing, picking at our never-quite-healed scars.

“I’m not mad about the other girls. I’m just saying the history is a little more complicated than you make it sound. Six years in which we’ve screwed things up a lot. Grown up and changed, maybe not always the same ways. And we have these two years we haven’t talked about, two years of not knowing each other. Not talking.”

“And whose fault were those years?”

I jolt and stare at Noah, mouth agape. “Are you kidding me? Whose fault was it _that my dad almost died_? That I had to leave Boston? That -”

“For God’s sake, Elle, obviously not that! But if you’re asking why we were apart after that, that’s on you.” Noah is standing now, hands jammed into his pockets, staring somewhere faraway. “I would have stayed. We would have been together. We wouldn’t be having these awkward conversations about who we are now because we’d know.”

“Or we’d have broken up anyway and you’d hate me for ruining your life.”

“Why? _Why_ do you believe we’d have broken up?”

“Because we were twenty. Because I was pretty screwed up for a long time over almost losing Dad. Because you would have resented me for throwing away Harvard, throwing away your last football season. Because you would have gotten sick of playing house instead of being a normal college student.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Elle, stop telling me what _I_ would have done. You don’t know what I would have done because you didn’t let me try. So don’t justify it now by telling me all the ways _I_ would have broken us up anyway.”

“Noah - that’s not - that’s not what I said.” I try to explain, but Noah cuts me off again.

“I _loved_ you. I would have given it my best, and maybe it would have worked out. Maybe it wouldn’t have, but at least we would have _tried_ . You always were convinced I thought you needed rescuing, convinced I was telling you what to do. But _you_ were the one telling me what order my priorities should go, telling me to leave. And now you’re doing it again. Pushing me away when I want to give us a chance.” Noah’s voice is half fury, half pleading.

I curl smaller at the edge of the lounger.

“That’s what I want too. A chance.” I hate how small my voice is. “I just need this to be simple. Like it used to be. I need it to be- us. Just us. Not us and… decisions. Commitments. Everything.”

“So I’ll make it simple. I am all-in if you are.  You can take all the time you need to figure everything else out, but I need to know that you take _us_ seriously. That you’re all-in too. Everything else- we’ll figure out later.”

“It’s not all about _you_ , Noah. Not all about _us_ and whether I take us seriously. Three days ago it was just me and I didn’t have it all together then either. You showing up doesn’t sort it all out. And when you look at me like you are right now, like your whole life hinges on me getting it right - it just makes everything harder. I can’t deal with the prospect of everything being so- serious, and then screwing it up. Because our track record isn’t great. So I need this to- start small. To be about next weekend or next month, but not next year. I need you to not immediately rearrange everything for me. In case I can’t live up to that.”

“Elle - I can’t do this. Not again. I am done trying to convince you. I love you. I don’t see that changing. I want to make plans for my life that include you. And for some reason that terrifies you. You say I’m adding pressure to an already stressful time, and that’s the last thing I want. But I also can’t do this half-way. I don’t want to hook up on random weekends and pretend like I don’t care where this is going. If you’re not all-in, I need to be out.”

The anger has long since drained from Noah’s voice, and he just sounds so tired now, so sad. I have been trying desperately to pull us out of this spiral, but I cannot give him what he wants. Not without lying. Noah needs me to be all-in, and I’m not sure I’m even all here right now.

“I don’t want you to be out.” I sniffle. “I just… I need more time.”

“And I’m giving you that time. You know my number. You know where I live, where I work, you know all the people who know where to find me. And you know how I feel. So if you ever make up your mind to take us seriously, you know how to reach me. But in the meantime, I need to be out.” He’s staring anywhere but me. His voice is flat. Final.

The silence is excruciating, but I can’t think of anything left to say. I finally uncurl from my huddled position at the edge of the chair. I make my way upstairs purely by muscle memory. If I stop and breathe the tears will drown me. If I stop and think about what I’m doing I won’t be able to move again. So I keep going. I find the few things I’d had with me, my clothes, my purse, my phone, and I keep mechanically moving forward until I’m in my car. I’m acutely, painfully aware than I’m wearing Noah’s shirt, but I don’t think I could survive the symbolism of removing it. I am in my car now, and I am turning the key, and I am still hoping that Noah will appear and stop me leaving. But I know he won’t, because I know him, I know his voice, and I know what I heard. Noah is out, and it’s all on me.


	11. Aftermaths and Absences

**Aftermath _(Elle)_**

 

I manage to hold it together until I get back to my apartment. There, I crawl into bed and am working on crying myself to sleep when my phone buzzes at me and keeps on buzzing at increasingly shorter intervals. When I reach to silence it, I can’t help but see that it’s Lee sending the barrage of messages.

_ Keep me out of it doesn’t mean leave me hanging for two days. _

_ Seriously, Elle, it’s Monday. You do know it’s Monday, right? _

_ You tell me Noah has shown up and then you go silent. Both of you. _

_ Please tell me you didn’t go to Vegas and get hitched. _

_ That was a joke, not a suggestion. _

_ Elle _

_ Elle _

_ Elle Elle Elle Elle pay attention to me _

Lee has no idea. I debate turning off my phone. I debate letting him find out from Noah. I debate getting drunk before responding. I debate yelling at Lee for sending Noah to ambush me.

Instead I just give in and dial.

“Hey. It’s me. You can call off the search party.”

“Finally. What the hell, Elle?”

“You said to keep you out of it.”

“And when have you ever actually done that?”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. There’s nothing to keep you out of.”

“Elle?”

“You were right. I was wrong. Happy?” My voice cracks and probably calling was a bad idea.

“What happened, Elle?” Lee says it so gently.

“I ruined everything. Again. Everything was great and then I freaked out.”

“Oh, Elle. How?”

Because I wasn’t ready. Because you pushed Noah at me without warning. I know it’s unfair to blame Lee, but right now I need to blame someone.

“Can we talk about it another time? I’m just… not able to right now.”

“Sure, whenever you want. But are you sure you’re okay?”

“No.”

Lee sighs deeply. “How not okay, Elle? I can’t really hang up if you say stuff like that.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. You don’t need to worry. I just- I need to sleep on it. I’ll call you tomorrow. If you have time.”

“For you? Always.”

If there’s a silver lining to the long and tortured history of our triangle, it’s that I know Lee is telling the truth here. We’ve learned from our mistakes. He always will make time for me, and I always will want to tell him everything. Just not tonight. When it’s so raw.

In the morning I call Lee, and I tell him everything. He doesn’t take my side or Noah’s side, or try to rationalize any of our actions, or advocate for any resolution. He just listens. He asks if I want him to get involved, to talk to Noah, and I don’t. But I must really have screwed up if Lee is offering to get involved. 

We leave it there for now.   
  


**~~~~**  
  


**November _(Elle)  
_**

 

“You look like crap, Elle.”

Normally I appreciate my roommate’s bluntness. Today I could do with a little less honesty.

“Thanks. I feel like it.” Midterms are hitting and I haven’t slept well in weeks.

“Are you going to tell me, at some point?”

“Tell you what?”

“What happened. The weekend you were gone.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been weird and depressed ever since.”

“It was my mom’s birthday. It always makes me sad.”

“Not like this. I saw you that morning when you headed out, you were happy. And then you didn’t come home for three days. Did something happen with your dad?”

“No. He’s fine.”

I debate again whether to tell her. We’ve talked about Noah before. About high school and those two perfect college years. And about the breakup. And she knows he’s Lee’s brother, June’s son, knows he’s always lurking at the periphery of my life even when we’re hiding from each other. But I haven’t mentioned our most recent disaster, to her or anyone else. Only to Lee. But maybe it’s time. It would be nice to talk to someone more detached from the situation than Lee can be. It would be nice to have a female friend I actually confide in.

“It was Noah.” I finally say. “He came to see me that weekend. I went to visit my mom and there he was, waiting for me. So I wouldn’t be alone on that day.”

And then the whole story comes tumbling out, bit by bit.

“And then I ruined everything. He was standing there telling me he loved me, telling me he believed in a future for us, and I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t promise him what he needed to hear. And he just watched me leave.”

“And since then? Have you tried to talk to him?”

“No. What would I tell him? Nothing has changed. I’m still a mess. Everything he said still makes me panic. He and I have had this exact fight, this exact breakup twice now. I don’t have a third in me. And I can’t do it to him, either.”

She lets me sit in silence, and I appreciate not being placated with fake reassurances or cheer.

“Elle, did you ever talk to anyone? After your dad’s accident?”

“Talk about what?”

“Talk to a therapist, I mean.” 

Oh. “No.” I admit. “But my dad is okay. We made it through all that.”

“I’m not sure  _ you _ did, Elle. I don’t want to overstep, but - maybe it would help. Don’t you think maybe there’s a connection? Between everything you’ve been through, with your mom, and then your dad, and how… panicked you get about the future? And even if it’s not that - maybe it would still be helpful to talk all this through. Because it’s clearly making you miserable.”

Sometimes a blunt roommate is a blessing.  
  


**~~~~**  
  


**Thanksgiving** **_(Noah)  
_**

 

Lee calls about a week after the debacle. He asks if I want to talk about it and I say no. Elle will have told Lee everything and there’s no point telling him my side of it, because Lee will always be in Elle’s corner. And as desperate as I am to understand Elle’s side of it, to have some idea what happened, I know Lee isn’t going to tell me anything Elle said in confidence. So if there’s no point telling Lee my side, and no chance of him telling me her side, there’s nothing left for us to talk about.

Thanksgiving is awkward. Mercifully, this year’s plan had been for my parents and Lee to come to San Francisco, so I’m spared having to wonder whether Elle is home, whether she’ll be coming by to see Lee. My parents are at a hotel, but Lee is staying with me. Another arrangement made before we knew we’d be dealing with this awkwardness.

On Thursday night, Lee and I sit around my living room after returning from the restaurant. After we exhaust the list of safe topics, I give in to the need to ask.

“You talk to Elle lately?” I know he has, of course. “Is she - okay?”

“According to her, yes.” Lee’s expression makes it clear how accurate he thinks that is. “Have you talked to her yet?”

“No.”

“You planning to?”

“No.”

“Are  _ we  _ going to talk about it?”

I drain the rest of my beer without acknowledging Lee’s question.

“Ok, good talk. Glad we cleared the air.” Lee rolls his eyes. He stares at his own beer a minute, then seems to decide something.  “I guess Elle can’t kill me for having a few too many at Thanksgiving.” The half-full bottle he’s holding is the only alcohol I’ve seen Lee with all night. “And she knows I talk to myself when I’m drunk.” This part is true. “So I don’t think I can be blamed for stuff people overhear.”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes, but I’m not going to not listen, either. 

“Elle is not okay. Sometimes she says she is, but she’s not. She’s mad at me for meddling and she’s mad at you for making ultimatums two days in. But mostly she blames herself.”

I continue to stare at the corner of the coffee table, keeping my expression neutral.

“She knows she hurt you. She’s afraid you won’t get past it. But if she was feeling even half as panicked that afternoon as she sounds when she talks to me about it, I’m not sure there was any other possible outcome when you started in with the grand declarations. You’ve got to give her time, man.”

I scoff, eyes still fixed on that one corner of the coffee table. “I did. The ball’s in her court. If she figures it out, she can tell me.”

“If it helps any, she  _ is _ trying to figure it out. It’s all she talks about sometimes. But you need to realize - it’s not just the two of you she needs to figure out. So cut her some slack, maybe.”

I stand and head to my room. It’s late. I pause at my door, not looking at Lee. “I’m glad you’re there for her.”

It’s the last time Lee and I discuss Elle for a while.  
  


**~~~~**  
  


**Christmas** **_(Elle)  
_**

 

I flub my eyeliner for the third time and consider just scrubbing everything off. I’m coming off a full week of exams and no amount of makeup is going to conceal my underslept, overstressed state. I’d hoped finishing finals would at least lift the sour queasy feeling from the pit of my stomach, but now the prospect of dinner with the Flynns has me even more anxious. 

I’ve had no contact with Noah since that weekend, and I don’t know if I’m prepared to see him again. I’m not sure I have a better answer for him yet. Just remembering the crushed look in his eyes almost sends me into another panic attack. I know that’s what they are, now, thanks to my therapist. I have a routine I’m supposed to follow when things get overwhelming. It helps a little. I went and met with my advisor and finally admitted to her I didn’t think I should apply to grad school yet, and I got through the whole meeting without wanting to flee. Then Dad had a talk with me about not limiting my job search to the LA area and I didn’t burst into tears at the idea of leaving him and Brad to fend for themselves. But when I think about tonight’s dinner and whether Noah might be there, and what to do if he’s still as hurt and furious and cold as last I saw him, then none of the techniques work.

It’s June who answers the door, and she wraps me in a tight hug as usual. I haven’t told her anything, and I doubt Noah has, but I think she senses there’s  _ something _ . But we dance around the topic because it’s too awkward. Instead she clucks at me for looking tired and promises she’s made my favorite pie, and it’s the first thing that’s sounded good in a while.

I see Dad and Brad already settled in the living room, talking to Matthew, and I see Lee at the top of the stairs, his phone stuck to his ear. June notices my furtive scanning of the room and leans in to whisper that Noah should be here soon. I do my best to smile at her and hide my panic. But at least I know, now. I’ll go sit in Lee’s room and put my head between my knees and breathe ten slow counts and all the other nonsense, and try to think of what I’m going to say.

But it turns out I needn’t. I pass an angry-looking Lee on my way up the stairs and I hear him mutter “Coward!” at his phone before stabbing at the red button. Lee turns around to catch up to me, and it’s his turn to fold me into a hug. And then he tells me that Noah just called to say he won’t make it after all because he conveniently lost track of time visiting friends in San Diego and doesn’t want to drive all the way back now that it’s night. Because Noah has suddenly become very concerned about roadway safety.

And I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed.


	12. Playing the Odds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 12-14 are going up in rapid succession tonight! I somehow let my AO3 updates fall behind my FFN updates, and I need to get everything in sync again, so three chapters being posted at once. Which may well be a good thing, as there's a lot about to happen here...

**Late March**

**_(Noah)_ **

For the hundredth time today, I tell myself to relax. Just being here is making me crazy, but what was I supposed to say - Sorry, can't chaperone the basketball team's tournament trip because I might see my ex-girlfriend? Yes, I'm hiding from a tiny brunette with commitment issues? So here I am, trying to keep an eye on my students while avoiding any awkward run-ins. But UCLA is a big campus, and we'll only be here two days - what are the odds? Funny things, odds.

After a long day wrangling teenage boys, I gratefully accept the other teachers' offer of a few hours off during the evening tournament games. I need to clear my head of this ridiculous feeling that I'm trespassing on enemy territory. We've been given passes to all the athletic facilities, so I head to the pool to try and exhaust my nerves away.

A dozen laps in, I pause at the end of my lane to adjust my goggles and catch my breath, and that's when I hear it. An exuberant laugh I'd know anywhere, a laugh that has my heart racing as I duck below the rim of the pool to avoid notice. And there she is, walking from the locker rooms to the opposite side of the lap pool. Of freaking course I would run into Elle, odds be damned. I stay low in the water, glad to be masked by my goggles and swim cap. She's wrapped in a towel - the pool deck is chilly - and I watch her twist her hair into a bun before pulling on a swim cap.

As Elle laughs with another girl and fusses with her cap, I try to remind myself of all the reasons I let her walk away five months ago. All the times she's made it clear she has no faith in us. I'd told her to call if she ever decided to take us seriously, and her silence has given me my answer. And yet, foolish hope and bitterness are duking it out yet again. That is, until Elle drops her towel and all rational thought comes to a crashing halt. Elle is... pregnant.

I'm no medical expert, but I am rather familiar with Elle. This is not a little added chubbiness. This is not a big meal. This is Elle, pregnant; I am sure of it. Adrenaline floods my system along with questions I'm not ready to process. I drop even closer to the water's surface, staying out of sight as Elle approaches the opposite end of the pool and climbs in. Once she starts swimming, I vault myself up and over the edge of the pool and into the locker room as fast as I can. My heart is pounding and I crank the shower as hot and strong as it will go, letting the water scald me as I lean my forehead against the wall.

Elle is pregnant.

Elle, pregnant.

The obvious question tortures me. And as certain as I am that what I saw could only be a pregnancy, I have no idea _how_ pregnant.

I think back to October and count. I have no idea if this is what five months pregnant would look like. And Elle had been on the pill. Could she have lied about that? It seems so unlikely. But then, did it... not work? Now would be a useful time to remember all those stats, all those odds from sex ed.

But how could she not tell me, if it were mine? She couldn't. Could she? No matter how poorly we left things, it seems impossible to imagine Elle keeping this from me. But my track record for predicting Elle's reactions is not great, I bitterly remind myself.

_Lee_. I suddenly recall that Lee was in LA last weekend. He must have seen her, so he has to know she's pregnant. Lee is probably the first person she'd tell anyway, I think bitterly. If it were mine, Lee would have said something, right? He wouldn't be able to stop himself from harassing me to go see Elle and Make Things Right. I can practically hear Lee yelling it, complete with the extra capitalization. And yet I’ve heard nothing from Lee. Not to mention Mr. Evans - surely he knows, and yet he hasn't shown up at my door to threaten my life.

So all evidence suggests it can't possibly be mine. But then, whose? Did Elle freak out that weekend because she was seeing someone else, despite what she'd told me? Was she already pregnant then? Or did she run away straight into the arms of someone new who doesn't set off all her commitment fears the way I apparently do? None of this makes any sense or sounds remotely like Elle, but then neither does the alternative: that Elle and I hit the wrong side of the contraception odds and yet absolutely no one has seen fit to tell me.

As I finally shut the water off and get dressed, I'm no closer to understanding the image now seared into my visual memory: Elle at poolside, her body at once so familiar and so fundamentally transformed. The only thing I'm sure of is that I have to know. I return to the hotel hosting the tournament teams and spend a long time staring at my phone before finally scrolling all the way down to a contact I've never managed to delete.

 

* * *

 

**_(Elle)_ **

My roommate is out when I return from the pool, and I'm glad for the quiet apartment. I've been dodging Lee's messages all week, because I know what they're about and I know he's right. I promise myself I'll call him as soon as I've had dinner, so I'm not surprised when my phone buzzes just as I settle onto the couch with my peanut butter and jelly. But when I pick up my phone, it's not Lee's goofy pic flashing at the top of the messaging app, it's a face I haven't seen in months.

I panic. Lee had promised, triple promised, under threat of death promised, not to say anything to Noah until I was ready. He couldn't have. He wouldn't have - right? My pulse races and I briefly squeeze my eyes shut before making myself open the message, terrified to read it.

_We need to talk. Can I call you?_

Shit. What does that mean? Why now, after five months of silence and avoidance? Does he... know? But how? I have to know if he knows before I can reply. I dial Lee with trembling hands, praying he'll pick up. Miraculously, he does.

"Did you tell Noah?" I launch right in.

"Well, hello to you too. Did I tell Noah what?"

"You know what."

"Of course not. Even though, might I mention again, someone's absolutely got to tell him."

"Nothing? You're sure?"

"You were pretty explicit about the threats of death. Why, did he find out?"

"I don't know. He sent me a message, out of the blue. He wants to talk. I... don't know why. I thought maybe you'd said something to him."

"I _should_ have said something to him. _Someone_ has to tell him. YOU have to tell him."

"I know. I know. And I promise I was about to call you and tell you that I'm ready to talk about how the hell I go about telling him. So maybe we should, uh, have that talk tonight? Let me just respond to Noah and tell him I'll call tomorrow. I'll call you right back."

I hang up with Lee and hit _reply_ on Noah's message.

_Uh, hi. Long time. I'm out of town with some friends, can I call you when I get back?_ A white lie. I need time to prepare. I need a plan. I need to figure out what to say and how to make Noah not hate me.

_Elle, I'm at UCLA. I know you're here. I saw you. At the pool._

Shit. I drop my head between my knees, trying not to panic. It's hard to do with this belly in the way. But I guess without this belly situation I wouldn't be hyperventilating in the first place. I'd wallow in that irony a bit longer but my phone is flashing at me again.

_Please, Shelly. Just talk to me._

Time to face the music. Assuming your music of choice is yelling and hysterical crying.

I text Noah my address without further comment and he responds equally succinctly _ETA 10 min_.

Ten minutes. What does one wear to tell the love of your life (that you pushed away because you couldn't handle admitting that) that you're pregnant and had been hoping to just somehow... not tell him quite yet? The fashion blogs never cover this situation. But if I'm reading Noah's cryptic texts right, he already knows. Why else would he mention he saw me at the pool? This belly is not subtle in a swimsuit. (How how HOW is he here on campus? He's supposed to be hundreds of miles away.)

I decide to stay as I am, in my leggings and wrapped in my favorite oversized zip hoodie. I send Lee a quick text so he knows what's going on, finish my sandwich, comb my damp hair into a slightly neater mess, and am debating whether makeup would be ridiculous when the doorbell rings. I settle for a quick prayer for mercy to any gods that might be listening. Just as I'm opening the door, it occurs to me that the reason my hoodie is giant is that it's Noah's, stolen many years ago. Oh well.


	13. Ours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 12, 13, and 14 were posted in rapid succession tonight. Make sure you've read 12 (Playing the Odds) before you read this one, or things will be very confusing...

**_(Noah)_ **

 

Elle’s apartment turns out to be around the corner from my hotel, so I wait outside to give her the promised 10 minutes. I hate this state of utter confusion. I hate that a part of me, the foolish ever-hopeful corner of my heart I’ve worked so hard to silence, is thrilled to be so close to seeing her again, all while the darkest parts of my heart are hurling accusations her way. I’m terrified that this could really be it, the end. I’ve been telling myself for five months that the end had come and gone, but now it’s painfully clear that I’d been hoping it hadn’t. And yet, maybe it had been the end for her. Maybe she’d moved on, moved on with a vengeance. I’m making myself crazy with far-fetched hypotheticals and the only way out is to actually talk to Elle.

Just as I finally make my way to her door, a message flashes on my screen. It’s Lee. _If you make her cry I will end you._ Helpful. And of course Elle has already alerted Lee. Of course Lee already knows more about what’s about to happen than I do. Lee and I need to have a long talk about brotherly loyalty once I’ve figured out what the hell is going on here.

I ring. Footsteps approach, then pause. I can’t help but scan the entranceway for clues. There are guys’ boots on the shoe rack in the hallway. On a whiteboard, a familiar handwriting has scrawled _Oh Mickey you’re so fine!_ Before I can construct nightmare scenarios from that, I hear the lock turn.

It’s Elle, tiny in her bare feet and swaddled in a hoodie I immediately recognize. Her hands are hidden in the long sleeves and she’s avoiding my eyes, her hair falling falling forward to veil her face. I’m suddenly irrationally frustrated at our height difference for making it so easy for her to hide.

We face off at the open door. I’m not sure what the protocol is when greeting an ex who broke your heart ( _again_ ) and then chose not to tell you she’s pregnant with a baby that probably is, but maybe somehow isn’t, yours. I finally break the painful silence with a muttered “Hey.” That should cover it, right? Elle still doesn’t look up, and I’m beginning to get angry that she won’t even acknowledge me when a barely audible sigh escapes her. I lean down and gently tip her face up, and that’s when I see her eyes are brimming with tears and she’s biting her lip to keep it from trembling.

“Oh god, don’t cry, Lee’s gonna kill me.” I don’t know why I say that, but it breaks the stalemate. A strangled laugh escapes her, and all of a sudden she’s sobbing and laughing all at once, and she wraps her arms around my waist and burrows into my chest. I freeze. I want to scoop her up and hold her until she stops crying, but I’m so lost as to where we are and whether she’d even want me to do that. And as she clings to me, the hard press of her changed shape reminds me that some very big questions need answering.

“I’m sorry,” I hear her mutter as the sobs subside. “I won’t let Lee kill you but he’s going to kill me first. After making me admit he was right and I was wrong and I needed to listen to his plan because clearly I’m screwing all of this up. Again. I just - I just - you’re here. You’re here and I’ve screwed all this up and now I’m just sobbing into your shirt like a crazy person because you’re here and I’ve missed you so much and you’re going to hate me.” And then the sobs resume.

We’re still in the open doorway. I decide I’ve got to do something. I didn’t catch all the things Elle said in her outburst, but she seemed glad to be holding me. I take this as a sign she won’t punch me if I pick her up. I loop an arm under her knees and the other under her shoulders, push the door closed, and gingerly walk her to the couch. I’m not sure where to park myself, awkwardly settling at the other end of the couch while Elle wipes at her face with her sleeves. _My_ sleeves, really, because she is still cocooned in a hoodie I’d thought lost years ago, something I’m trying hard not to read too much into.

We still haven’t addressed the elephant in the room, but I’m starting to suspect the answer is very, very obvious. An answer that has anger and fear and a growing sliver of irrational joy roiling my system. But I need her to say it. To actually tell me.

I’m trying to find the right words when she looks up at me with a mixture of nerves and defiance. It’s an expression I know well, Elle’s me-against-the-world face, and I hate that she’s feeling the need for it to talk to me.

“I’m sorry for making a mess of your shirt, but -”

“Which one, the one I’m wearing or the one you stole?” My interruption earns me a tiny smile, but Elle presses on. I’m not sure why I’m trying to make her smile, anyway. I’m pretty sure I’m furious. Or should be.

“I’m sorry for making a mess of your shirt, but it turns out crying all the time like a crazy person is one of the joys of the second trimester.”

Again I wish desperately to have retained more from human biology class. Somehow these details weren’t the part that seemed important then. “I don’t remember what that means.”

“What what means?”

“The second trimester. What it implies about - this. When this happened.” I gesture frustratedly at her belly. I’m angry that I still don’t know and I’m terrified at the answer. “I need you to tell me. To say it.” I finally say.

The silence stretches. I can see she’s lost her nerve. I panic that maybe the answer isn’t as obvious as I thought. I panic at the sudden realization that I desperately want this baby to be mine. I panic that if Shell can’t tell me, it must not-

“Five months.” Her voice is quiet but determined. “The end of October.”

My head falls back against the back of the couch and I stare at the ceiling. “Mine,” I breathe. “Ours.”

 

* * *

 

**_(Elle)_ **

 

Of all the ways I imagined this moment, I never expected the silence. Noah would storm out, or cry, or punch a wall, or miraculously forgive me and sweep me into his arms, or some combination of those. But instead, he has gone still. His head is still tipped back, and his eyes have closed, and he has not said a word since that whispered “Ours.” A twitch of his cheek tells me he is clenching his jaw, and I see his pulse hammering at his temple. But otherwise, a deadly stillness.

I’m briefly furious at his apparent uncertainty. I remind myself I did everything possible to provoke it. Everything possible to hide this and destroy his trust in me. Of course he’d wonder.

After a few minutes, I crack. “Please say something.”

More deadly stillness.

“Noah, please.”

This still, silent Noah terrifies me. Never before have I been so unable to read him.

After another minute, I tentatively reach for his hand. The instant our hands meet, his clutches mine, interlacing our fingers and holding on so tightly I can feel his pulse. But still, silence.

“Noah - ” I try again, but this time he cuts me off.

“You have had five months to process this. I have had _five minutes_. I need… another moment.” His voice is strained.

Two months, I want to correct him. I’ve only had two months to get used to this. But he has no idea, and that’s my fault, too.

The silence is back. Noah still has not moved. And then the third person in the room makes itself known, choosing this moment to drum against my belly. Impulsively, I pull our joined hands to me and flatten Noah’s palm against the origin of the drumming. Noah startles, and then I see a wave of recognition flow through him as the kicks start up again.

I hold my breath and hope it was the right move.


	14. This Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 12, 13, and 14 were posted in rapid succession tonight - make sure you've read 12 (Playing the Odds) and 13 (Ours) before this one!

**_(Noah)_ **

 

"Mine. Ours."

The question is answered; its significance starts to sink in. I am relieved, furious, confused - and desperate to know what Elle wants.  _ If  _ she wants anything from me.

I know what I want. The past five months may have dimmed my hopes Elle would ever be ready to take us seriously, but they haven't changed my feelings. Nor has this surprise, I'm realizing. The unknown here isn't what I want, it's whether I have any chance of getting it.

Twice Elle has bolted when I've dared acknowledge that she is it for me and that I'd like to plan my life around hers; twice she's been unable, unwilling to have faith in our future. And now, here we are, facing the most permanent of connections, and I need to know what  _ she  _ thinks it means for us.

Why hadn't she told me? Would she ever have, if I hadn't inconveniently turned up? Was she just going to run away and hide from me forever, child in tow? Or give up the baby and never say a word about it in a lifetime of awkward interactions when Lee or our parents guilt us into attending family events? I don't believe she could, but everything about this situation has me doubting what I thought I knew. And rejecting both of those possibilities just leaves me back at the original mystery - why Elle has kept this from me.

"Noah -" Elle pleads again, but I'm just not ready.

"You have had five months to process this. I have had  _ five minutes _ . I need... another moment." I breathe out.

As I try to puzzle out Elle's motivations, I realize I have no doubts about mine. It's Elle, and it's our baby. No matter how angry and hurt I am to find out this way, how utterly confused, I never could not want this. I just desperately need to know that Elle wants this too. That hiding this wasn't because she's going to shut me out again. That she's going to let me be there, on any terms. Better yet, that she's going to give  _ us _ a chance. That under all that panic she's at least a little bit happy about this. The way I'm realizing I am.

Suddenly, Elle yanks my hand and presses it to her belly. Before I can wonder why, I have my answer as something -  _ someone  _ \- faintly drums against my palm.

Realization dawns. The feeling is otherworldly and humbling, and for a moment I can't breathe, afraid to miss a beat. All of a sudden I stop caring why Elle hadn't told me yet, or what the hell this means for us. I just need to have this moment. This moment of being with Elle and marveling at the idea of a baby. I don't want to be cheated of this moment just because the circumstances are- whatever this is.

I sit up and look at Elle for the first time since she confirmed this strange creature kicking against my hand is ours.

"I have a lot of questions. A lot of things we need to talk about, things I need to say." Elle starts to respond, but I press on. "To be honest, some anger. And probably I'll say some unfair things, and you will too, and it'll get worse before it gets better, because our track record for hard conversations is not great. But I'm going to believe that it _will_ get better again. Because we have to work this out, this time. And right now, for just a little while, I want to pretend that we've done all that part already, and are back to good. Can we just - have an hour where we pretend the hard part is over already, and catch up? An hour to just be happy about this, even if we've still got work to do? If... if you want that too."

I wait for Elle to say something, anything, in response. Her head is down; she is hiding behind her hair again. Dread settles into my stomach as I realize she may not feel the same. That she may have no interest in fixing us. No desire to be happy about this. And then her hand clasps mine again, lacing our fingers back together, and she whispers "Yes. To both. To wanting to make this better, and to letting ourselves be happy first."

She finally looks up at me and when our eyes meet I am gripped by a startling desire to kiss her. That wasn't at all what I'd meant by pretending things were already better, and I can think of a thousand reasons why we shouldn't quite yet. And yet I have never wanted to kiss her more than in this moment, so I ask anyway. "Shell, this is a terrible idea, but I just really need -" She reads my eyes, or maybe she's just feeling the same need, because before I can finish the question, her lips are on mine. The kiss is short but searing, and we pull back as though startled by the intensity.

And then she laughs, the same irrepressible laugh that caught my attention from across a pool and set off tonight's collision course. "Lee's going to kill me," she chokes out mid laugh. "I - I told him you were coming over and all he said was - look."

Elle hands me her phone and there's Lee's latest on her screen.  _ No kissing until you figure your shit out.  _ I wordlessly find Lee's threat to me about making her cry and show it to her. "I guess we're 0 for 2 on listening to Lee."

Elle laughs again, a little more sadly this time. "Sounds about par for the course for us."

"Do me a favor and don't tell me how Lee thinks this should end up. I don't want to screw this up just to contradict my little brother."

"Deal, but I'm telling him we're talking. I'm shocked he hasn't blown up both our phones asking for updates."

"He's probably on a plane to California already." 

 

* * *

 

**_(Elle)_ **

 

Noah smirks as he tells me Lee is probably on a plane to California already, and in that instant he looks like my Noah again, like the last two and a half years never happened. Or even just the last five months, if I'm being honest. Good job screwing it all up  _ twice _ , Elle. But Noah seems to believe we can be fixed. And if he believes that, if he thinks he can forgive me, if he's not completely thrown by this news, that's - a lot better than the alternative. A lot better than what I imagined when I saw his text tonight. A lot better than the nightmares I've been having since I found out.

But that's for later, along with a lot of other hard conversations. For now, we have some catching up to do. And if that's going to happen, I need some food. Too bad liquid courage is off the table for another four months.

"Noah - before we... do this and sit down and talk, I need a snack. And another glass of water. And a, uh, trip to the restroom. Maybe that can be item one on the So I'm Pregnant discussion agenda: the needing snacks and water and the bathroom  _ all.the.time _ ." I'm rambling, but it earns me another smirk.

"I could use food too. I was planning to have dinner after swimming, and then, - well, you know, I was distracted by some surprises. But now..."

"Having either of us hangry would probably be bad, agreed. Nachos?"

I get the toppings out and let myself get wistful as I watch Noah assemble nachos like we're back in high school having a movie night with Lee.

"You still like these the same way, or are there any weird cravings I need to know about? Should I add pickles or something?"

A pregnancy joke. Noah's smile doesn't reach his eyes. We're both treading gingerly. I chase away thoughts of how this could have been under more normal circumstances. Noah and I, together, older, expecting on purpose. I remind myself it was precisely the prospect of those normal circumstances that scared me away and caused this mess. Time to play the hand you dealt yourself, Elle.

I send Lee a quick message.  _ We're talking. So far so good. Talk to you tomorrow. _

My phone buzzes back immediately.  _ NO KISSING. _

_ I said talk to you tomorrow. _

_ DO I NEED TO FLY OUT THERE? _

_ Please, no. One surprise Flynn is enough for a weekend. _

_ Why is he even there? You ask him that yet? _

_ We haven't gotten that far. _

_ Probably got tired of creeping on my social media in the hopes of a Shellllllly sighting and decided to stalk you directly. _

_ GOOD NIGHT, LEE. _

I put away my phone. This seems like a no distractions kind of discussion we need.

Noah is putting the finishing touches on the nachos. I grab a seltzer. "You want a drink? My stuff is all boring, but Mickey won't mind if you grab a beer."

Noah is facing away from me, but I see his entire body stiffen.

"Mickey, my roommate."

Noah's shoulders relax slightly.

"My female roommate."

His shoulders relax another inch.

"And those shoes and that jacket you keep stealing looks at when you think I won't notice are Mickey's boyfriend's."

His shoulders are back to normal and he turns to face me with a sheepish smile.

"I know we're not talking about this right now, but for the record, if this even needed to be said, there's no Elle's boyfriend. You can put your punching fists away." I add.

Noah glares at me but I see the relief in his eyes.

"As long as we're just establishing the record, there's no Noah's girlfriend, either."

"Noted." I don't let Noah see me smile as I walk away. 

 

* * *

 

**_(Noah)_ **

 

My phone buzzes while Elle is in the bathroom.

_ Threat to end you if you make her cry still stands. _

I send Lee an eye roll back.

_ I am dead serious. She sounded hopeful just now. I'm violating my bff oath of secrecy to tell you that. Don't eff this up. _

Typical Lee. Elle springs a secret pregnancy on me and I'm still the bad guy. I'm not dignifying this with a response.

_ I know you're not the bad guy this time. Don't eff it up anyway. _

Lee's a good brother.

_ And KEEP YOUR PANTS ON. _

A really obnoxious good brother.  _ good night, lee _

_ That's what she said. _

_ GOOD NIGHT, LEE. _

_ yep, exactly like that, with the allcaps. Guess you guys are in sync again. DON'T EFF THIS UP. _

I think he's done but a last message flashes as Elle returns.

_ But seriously, figure this out. Uncle Lee's orders. _

Uncle Lee. Yikes. Guess it's time to start talking, because this just got very real.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. I now return to a more leisurely weekly update pace, targeting Fridays (sometimes Saturday instead), with the occasional Tuesday update as well.


	15. Catching Up

_Previously:_ Can we just - have an hour where we pretend the hard part is over already, and catch up?

* * *

 

**_(Noah)_ **

 

We reclaim our positions at opposite ends of the couch. This catching up had been my idea, but I’m not sure where to start.

“July 18. That’s when I’m due.” Elle eventually volunteers.

“July 18. So that’s… four more months. Not quite.”

“But it could be a little earlier or later. So mid-July sometime. But I should be able to get through finals no problem. I’ll just be huge for graduation.”

I smile at the thought of a very pregnant, very short Shelly in a cap and gown. But “when” wasn’t actually the first question I’d had in mind.

“How?” This earns me a raised eyebrow. “I mean, obviously, I understand the mechanics. I just thought we were being… safe.”

“I thought so too. Turns out we were… 97% safe. Lucky us.”

I return Elle’s half-smile. Guess I should have insisted on that pharmacy run after all. But I didn’t and here we are, and I’m not sure I’m entirely sorry.

“Can I ask you something that I promise I don’t intend in a weird way?” This one elicits a _very_ raised eyebrow. “Yeah, that still sounded wrong. I’m sorry. But - can I see you? Without this hoodie whose ownership we will definitely be addressing? I saw you at the pool, and I’m not sure _that_ image will ever leave me, but I’m still trying to wrap my head around the reality of you, pregnant.”

“Only if you tell me why you were even at my pool.”

“Chaperoning the all-state high school basketball tournament. Thought I’d relax with some laps.”

“Not so relaxing after all?” Elle cringes at my answering glare.

She stands, and with the giant hoodie I almost can’t tell. I could have run into her on the street and just thought, huh, Shell looks a little heavier. But when the hoodie comes off and Elle stands in just her tank top and leggings, I can only stare in awe at the transformation. And it’s not just the belly, either. An inappropriate thought strikes, and I fail miserably at keeping a straight face.

“What?” Elle demands.

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“I was just remembering that summer I came home from football camp to discover you’d grown - those. And now, _well_.” I can’t help it, I have to give her my most exaggerated leering look when I say this.

“Just shut up. You’re worse than Lee.”

“I would hope my reactions to your breasts are very, very different than Lee’s. Also, please note I did not call them ‘boobies,’ which is more than I can say for him.” I’m cracking up now, and Elle giggles too.

“Bosoms. He was trying so hard to be respectful last week, so he called them _bosoms_ when he asked if I’d been hitting the human growth hormone again.” We grin at the memory.

I’m dying to ask about Lee and how long he’s known and what he’s known, but I’m not ready to go there yet.

“Seen enough, or are you going to keep the pregnant lady on her feet all night?”

Ah, the first playing of the pregnant lady card. I gallantly wave Elle back to the couch. She leaves the hoodie off, and this time she sits next to me. I cannot stop staring. If I keep my gaze high, she looks just the same. Her face is scrubbed clean of makeup and her hair has the wild curl it gets when she lets it air dry; it’s always been my favorite way to see her, a look I remember from lazy weekend nights in college when neither of us felt like going out. And then my eyes drift down and take in the full picture, and suddenly things aren’t so familiar anymore.

“I’ll spare you trying to figure out how to make ‘Can I touch?’ not sound pervy. Yes, go ahead. Everyone wants to touch the pregnant belly. I’m getting used to it.”

She’s trying to sound blasé, but we both know I’m not “everyone.” I may be the last to know, but I’d like to think I have a higher claim to this particular belly. Note to self: never phrase it that way to Elle unless I want the caveman lecture again. Maybe “interest in” is better than “claim to.” I lightly rest both hands on her belly and marvel at the unfamiliar taut roundness. I’m a little disappointed not to feel any motion this time.

“He’s probably asleep.”

“He? It’s a boy?” I’d been picturing a miniature Shelly. I mean, more miniature than usual.

“I don’t actually know. I could have found out at the last scan, but I wasn’t ready for it to be so real, so specific. And - I felt guilty. Finding out… without you.”

“THAT you felt guilty about?” The bitterness slips out before I can bite the words back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I was just surprised. But we said we’d deal with the hard parts later. We can talk about this later.”

“I was going to tell you.” Elle whispers. “I just had to accept it for myself first. And then figure out how to tell you. What to tell you. How you might react. What I’d do about how you might react.”

I think I know what she’s getting at, and it’s not the time for this yet, so I steer us back to milder topics. “Well, just for the record, I’m rooting for a girl. The Flynn male genes are… unpredictable. You think you’re getting me, and then, surprise - Lee.” This earns me exactly the hard shove I was hoping for.

“Well, I’m hoping for a Lee clone. Just to torture you. And look, you’ve made him - or her - mad, too and they’re taking it out on me.”

The sensation is just as miraculous the second time. Before I can think better of it, I pull Elle back against my chest so I can wrap my arms around her. She relaxes against me, leaning her head on my shoulder. I close my eyes and just let myself soak in this reality. This is what I meant by pretending for just an hour. We have hard conversations ahead, but for now I want to revel in holding Elle and this belly I still can’t quite believe.

“Who knows?” I suddenly think to ask. “Besides Lee.”

“My dad. Brad. My roommate Mickey. My advisor. A few classmates and friends here. That’s it. Well, and apparently anyone who’s seen me at the pool.”

“Not my parents?”

“No. I couldn’t tell them before telling you. And I haven’t seen them since finding out, anyway.”

“But you saw them at Christmas.” Just because I made sure I was nowhere near that dinner doesn’t mean I didn’t know exactly where Elle was.

“I didn’t know at Christmas. I was three months gone before I got a clue.”

“How?” I’m stunned. “Can’t you take those tests really early?” I realize my pregnancy knowledge derives entirely from TV shows and commercials. I’m going to need to improve that.

“You can, if you have reason to think you’re pregnant. I didn’t. I was on the pill. And when my period didn’t show up, that wasn’t unusual for me. The pill makes it really light most months.”

I blanch a little, and Elle smiles. For someone who’s patched up cuts after as many fights and scrimmages as I have, you’d think I’d be less squeamish about blood when it comes to - girl stuff. ( _Woman_ stuff, the Shelly in my head rants.) Something else I’m probably going to need to get over quick. “But weren’t you… puking and stuff?”

“Not everyone pukes. And I was distracted and feeling crappy anyway for other reasons. I was… really sad. And then so busy with finals. And then getting ready for the next quarter. Being exhausted and moody all the time seemed normal. And then Mickey took one look at me when she got back to campus in January and made me go buy a test.”

“So Mickey’s psychic?”

“Mickey’s been volunteering at a youth shelter for years. I wasn’t the first case of total pregnancy denial she’s seen. And she knew - about us. That weekend. I think she’d had suspicions for a while, even if I was oblivious.”

“So you found out - at the end of January?” Elle nods. “And - are you feeling okay now? Is everything going okay with - this?” I’m still stumbling over the words “pregnancy” and “baby.” I woke up this morning worrying about keeping fifteen teenage boys out of trouble on a college campus and now I’m in some trouble of my own.

“Yeah. Everything looked good with Dino on the last scans. You want to see a picture?”

I do, desperately, but first - “Dino? You’re naming it - Dino?” I’m hoping now is not too soon for me to claim a vote on these matters, because this one might merit a veto.

“Just temporarily, relax. Calling it ‘it’ all the time was getting weird.”

“But - Dino? Really?”

Elle giggles. “You can blame Mickey. She’s disturbingly obsessed with Jeff Goldblum and when I was staring at that positive test and telling her it couldn’t possibly be accurate because I’d been on the pill, she just kept telling me ‘Life finds a way’ in this terrible Goldblum voice to make me laugh. And then she came to the first scan with me and you know, early on, with the little short arms and big head - it did look a lot like a dinosaur. So, Dino. Lee’s rooting to make that the real name.”

“Lee and I will be having a talk. About a lot of things. But I do want to see a picture.”

Elle doesn’t take the bait about Lee, but retrieves her phone and thumbs through her pictures. “Here. This is the latest. Not so dinosaur-like anymore.”

“Damn.” I am… not very eloquent in this moment. The picture is blurry and black and white, but unmistakable - a tiny face and a waving hand. “Can you send this to me? So I can look at it when I wake up tomorrow and wonder if this was all a crazy dream?” I’m only half kidding about expecting I’ll need proof today was real. Even sitting here with my hands on the evidence it feels unreal.

Suddenly I realize how soon July is. The logistics of it all start to hit me. I have no idea where Elle plans to be living by July, of how the baby waving at us from that picture fits into her post-graduation plans - or even what those plans are. How she’s going to afford all of this. That one should be an easy answer, but money was always a touchy subject between us. I had planned to stay in San Francisco for the summer. Had planned to keep teaching next year. Now I’m pretty sure I need to be here, or at least I _want_ to be here, but I don’t know yet on what terms I’ll be welcome. Telling Elle I want to make any change to my life to be closer to her has not worked out well for me in the past. But this time it’s not just us in the equation. This time we _have_ to get it right.

The jarring realization that we’ll soon have parental responsibilities overlaying our romantic entanglements reminds me of something Elle said earlier. “Elle, you really haven’t told my mom yet?”

“No. I saw her at Christmas, but I didn’t know. And I’ve been kind of avoiding her lately, now that… things are getting obvious.”

“But don’t you _want_ to talk to her? I know how close you two are. And this seems like something you’d want a mom to talk to about.”

“Yeah. But she’s _your_ mom. How could I tell her before telling you? I had to figure things out with you first.”

I feel guilt, not for the first time, that our relationship disasters have complicated Elle’s relationship with my mom. “But you did tell Lee.” Another relationship central to Elle’s happiness that we’ve strained again and again.

“I had to. He’d had last week’s visit planned for months. I couldn’t tell him to not come. And then once he was here, it’s not like I could hide it. But I think he suspected something was up. I’ve probably been acting weird to him since January. And I thought he could help me figure out how to tell you.”

“You only told Lee last week? Not when you found out?” I’m stunned, again.

“Yeah. Noah, what did you think my plan was, to tell your family and not you?”

Maybe, to be honest. I’m used to not being the first Flynn on her list. And it made sense. Lee was her best friend, and my mom her almost-mom, for years before I was - everything we’ve been. Whatever she’s thinking we are now. I feel both guilty and oddly encouraged that Elle kept this from Lee and my mom for so long, for me. “Well, let’s get this figured out at least enough to tell my mom, then. You must be dying to talk to her. And she’s going to be thrilled.”

“You think?” Elle looks skeptical.

“Thrilled with _you_ , yes. Me, I’m sure she’ll have other words for. And telling my dad should be awesome.” It does occur to me that Elle’s involvement is likely the one singular circumstance under which my mom is going to be thrilled to hear I’m making her a grandmother already. Which is fair, because Elle’s involvement is also the only circumstance under which _I’m_ happy about it.

“I’ll make sure your parents know _you_ were the one advocating for a pharmacy run and I was the one confident in our 97% odds.” Elle smiles as she says this, but her voice falters.

“Elle - you know I don’t blame you, right? We did this. Both of us.” Elle is looking away. “And, blame would be the wrong word anyway. You and I, we have a lot to figure out. But shock aside - this doesn’t strike me as the absolute worst news in the world.” If, if, _if_ , we can get this right between us, I add silently.

Elle has sat up a little, pulling back from me, and is still looking away. “It felt like it might be the worst news. When I found out.” She finally whispers. Her voice is rough and I realize she’s crying. I gently pull her back to me, and I can feel her hesitation before she lets herself be tucked against my chest.

“I wish I’d been there when you found out.”

“Yeah, well, I screwed that one up too.”

“No, Elle - I didn’t mean it like that. I wish I’d been there - for you. It can’t have been easy.”

Elle doesn’t respond to that one, just cries harder, her head buried against me.

“Elle - did you… not want this baby? I mean, obviously this wasn’t intentional. But was it- too late, when you found out, for you to have options?”

I feel the hand that had been curled near my shoulder clench. “No,” she finally says. I wonder which question she’s answering. I keep her tucked tight against me and wait. We’re getting to the hard conversations. We can’t skip over them this time.

“It wasn’t too late. And I did think about it. But I didn’t want to. I desperately wanted to not be in this situation, at least not like this, not now, with things as they were between us. But when Mickey asked if I’d thought about ending it, the idea made me even sadder. So I didn’t. I didn’t do anything, really. For a month I didn’t tell anyone other than Mickey, not even my dad, and I just tried not to think about it. To just go to classes and go to lab and put off figuring out what to do.” Elle’s voice has evened out as her tears have stopped. “And then this belly started happening and I couldn’t keep hiding it. I told my dad a month ago. And Brad. No way he wasn’t going to overhear _that_ conversation with Dad. And then Lee showed up last week.”

And today I showed up. I’m realizing I’m not as last to know, or by as long, as I had assumed in my initial fury. “Elle - does your dad know it’s mine? Because if he does, I can’t believe he hasn’t shown up at my door yet.”

“He knows what happened. And he knows I needed to tell you myself.”

“God, he must hate me. I’m living up to all his worst fears.”

Elle smiles sadly. “No, I said he _knows_. Not just that it’s yours, but also that I was the one who ran away when you were - all in. And you disproved his worst fears about you a long time ago. Even before you dropped everything to take care of us after the accident. You’d been in his good books for a while.”

“Had been, past tense,” I note.

“I mean, he’s not thrilled with this development. But right now I’m the one he’s most unhappy with.”

“So I have until he knows I’ve found out?”

“Probably. He might give us a day before he starts demanding to know our intentions.”

Ah, yes, our intentions. A topic starred, highlighted, and underlined on the list of urgently necessary conversations. I’m debating how to start that conversation when the door swings open. A tall blonde walks in and stops short when she sees us. Really, when she sees me. And then she flashes me a smile that is more feral than friendly.

“The infamous other Flynn brother. About damn time you showed up, _Dad_.”

 

* * *

A/N: For those not as obsessed with Jeff Goldblum/Jurassic Park as Mickey is, "Life, uh, finds a way": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kiVVzxoPTtg

Probably going back to weekly updates now...


	16. Meet the Roommate

_Previously:_ A tall blonde walks in and stops short when she sees us. Really, when she sees me. And then she flashes me a smile that is more feral than friendly.

“The infamous other Flynn brother. About damn time you showed up, _Dad_.”

* * *

  ** _(Elle)_**

Noah’s reaction today has been… calmer than I expected. He’s at least not at either of the extremes I’d feared, neither furious and storming out nor leaping to grand declarations I’m not ready for. At moments it has even felt relaxed between us, until I look down and remember what’s precipitating this little reunion. But it seems the clock is running out on our hour of putting off the hard conversations, and now here’s Mickey to make things even more interesting.

“Noah, my roommate Mickey. Mickey, my…  Noah.” There, I’ve made the introductions.

“Noah. Oh, Noah, Noah, Noah. I’ve heard _so_ much about you.” Mickey sits herself on the coffee table, facing us, and props her elbows on her knees, steepling her fingers. She’s an actress, and I’m pretty sure she’s taking this act straight from one of her audition scenes. I’d enjoy watching her mess with Noah if I had a bit more detachment from the situation.

To his credit, Noah hasn’t flinched. “It sounds like I have you to thank for taking care of Elle these past couple months. So - thank you.” He meets Mickey’s stare and holds it. I’ve pulled back slightly from him, just enough to be able to see him and to see Mickey, but his arm stays around me, one hand still splayed protectively over my belly.

“I see you finally gave up on your ridiculous plan to never speak to Elle again? And just in time, as you seem to have noticed.”

I can see Noah bristle at her words and I should probably intervene before the two of them get off on the wrong foot.

“Mickey - lay off. You know -” is all I can get out before Noah jumps in.

“I can assure you I would have reconsidered waiting for Elle to make up her mind if I’d had any idea about _this_. If anyone had bothered to tell me.” Noah sounds understandably riled and I really need to head this off.

“Both of you - chill. Mickey, back off. These are conversations Noah and I need to have. And we all know the current ridiculousness is my fault.”

“Oh, honey, no doubt about that. You’re _both_ obstinate idiots. I’m just glad one of you finally caved. So who gets the prize for being slightly less bullheaded and finally calling?”

Noah snorts and I feel myself blush. One of us is going to have to tell Mickey what actually happened.

“... not really either of us?” I mumble.

“So Lee spilled the beans?” Mickey presses. There’s a gleam in her eye that tells me she knows there’s a story to be had.

“No.”

“Well, I know I didn’t, although I’ll admit I was getting close. So I’m running out of suspects. Was it your dad? Was a shotgun involved?”

“It wasn’t anyone. Just- bad timing. Or maybe good timing. Noah’s here with his students and we, ah, ran into each other.” Noah is continuing to keep an impressively straight face and I guess dealing with Mickey is more my responsibility than his.

“You just - ran into each other? And Elle’s brilliant plan to wear progressively bulkier sweaters until she’s ready to tell folks didn’t work?”

“Not at the pool it didn’t.” Noah says it dryly, but the smile hiding at the corner of his lips fills me with relief. If he can find any humor in the situation… I add it to my list of hopeful omens.

“At the pool? Oh, this is amazing. Lee and I had a whole list of ideas if we couldn’t get Elle to call you soon, but this is even better.”

“You and Lee are talking now?” I’m more than a little concerned that Lee and Mickey are teaming up.

“You’re kind of more than a single bestie can handle at the moment.” Noah stifles a laugh here. “Does Lee know about this little reunion?”

“Lee always knows.”

The sudden bitter edge in Noah’s voice brings me back to reality. As well as tonight has gone, at least compared to my nightmares, I’ve still got a lot of explaining to do. Like why Noah is only finding out now, after Lee, and only because he picked the exact right time for a swim. Why I flipped out in October, and why I never called afterward, even before our surprise complicated the situation.

“Mickey - can we maybe catch up tomorrow? Noah and I were kind of in the middle of talking. Which I think you agree is what needs to be happening.” I’m giving her a pleading look.

“Actually, Elle - I hate to do this, but it’s already way past when I needed to get back to the hotel, to switch off with the other chaperones.” Noah has retrieved his phone from his pocket and I can see the lock screen covered in missed calls and messages he’s been ignoring.

I’m not ready for Noah to leave. He’s finally here and we’re finally talking, and there’s so much more I need to tell him. And I especially don’t want to leave things here, at Noah’s frustration that Lee knew before he did.

At least Mickey has sensed she’s in the way. “Look, I’ll leave you two in peace. You can’t blame a friend for being curious when she walks in on a scene like this, but I’ve seen what I needed to see. Noah, a pleasure to finally meet the man behind the stories. Apparently Elle wasn’t exaggerating.”

“Mickey!” But Noah is chuckling and I’m grateful to Mickey for lightening the mood. Once she’s in her room, I turn back to Noah.

“Do you really have to go?”

“Judging from these messages… yeah.”

“Will you have any time tomorrow? Or could you… stay another day?” I feel pathetic practically begging him to stay, not to mention hypocritical, given how long I’d kept him away, but I don’t want to lose this momentum.

“I- I really can’t. And I think maybe some time to... process all this would be good, anyway. But I could fly down next weekend.”

“Ok. Next weekend. I can definitely make some room in my very busy social calendar.”

“For this? I hope so.”

Noah’s arm is still around me and we are awkwardly looking not quite at each other. There’s a lot left to be discussed, not the least being where _we_ are. What we’re parting as tonight. I clench my free hand, digging my nails into my palm, trying to muster up the guts to get out what I want to say.

“I was going to call, you know. And soon. This isn’t- this wasn’t how I wanted you to find out. But I’m glad that now you know. So we can… start talking about everything else. But I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

“It’ll make a good story, one day.” It’s clear from his tone that now is not quite that day. But at least he thinks we’ll get there.

“Did you mean it, when you said you believe we can make this better?”

“Of course. Did you?”

“Yeah.” I want to tell him that I was going to call even before this surprise. That finding out I was pregnant delayed that call rather than provoking it. But there’s so much more that needs to be said with that and we’re out of time for tonight. At least I’ll have all week to work up to it.

Noah finally pulls his arm back from me and stands up from the couch. He turns and extends a hand to help me up, and between the sweet gesture and the accompanying look in his eye, it’s all I can do to keep the waterworks in check. Stupid second trimester mood swings.

“I’m not _that_ huge yet. I can still manage to stand up, you know.” Sarcasm - always the best defense against sentimentality. But I take his hand anyway and follow him to the door.

“I’m done talking to Lee about this, by the way. This should be - between us. And please don’t get mad at him for not telling you, he’s been badgering me to call you since the minute he found out.” It all comes out in a rush. We’re facing each other by the door, although I can’t quite meet his eyes.

“Elle - you can talk to Lee.” Noah tips my chin up to make me look at him. “I’d never ask you not to talk to Lee. Just… talk to me, too.”

“Ok.” I nod awkwardly.

“But maybe don’t tell Lee this part.” There’s a half laugh to his voice, and before I know it Noah’s lips have landed on mine. It’s a restrained kiss, one that makes it clear we’re going no further. But for tonight, and until we can get on firmer ground, it’s enough. Noah’s hands had settled at my waist as we kissed, and now, as we pull apart, they drift forward to rest over my belly.

“Trying to convince yourself it’s real? Don’t worry, I still have to remind myself some mornings.”

“Yeah, maybe a little.” Noah’s smile is embarrassed. “So, uh, you guys take care. Until next weekend.”

“You guys? Me and Mickey?”

Noah stares at me. “Sure, Mickey too.”

“Oh. Me and _Dino_ ?” Now it’s a glare. “Aw, c’mon, it’s a cute name. Try it. _Dino_.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he finally laughs. And with that he ducks out the door, turning back to give me a half-salute when he reaches the elevator.

* * *

It takes Mickey approximately eight seconds to reappear after I close the door. I busy myself cleaning up the kitchen and pretend not to know what she’s waiting for.

“So.” Mickey hops up to sit on the counter and stares steadily at me.

“So. How was your day?” Not that playing dumb is likely to get me far with Mickey.

“Oh, my day’s been awesome. Rehearsal went great, found some amazing shoes on clearance, hot date with the boy. Was tempted to stay over, but then I thought my mopey knocked-up roommate might need some company.”

“So thoughtful of you.” It actually is. Mickey has basically been babysitting me for months and I’m not sure what I would have done without her.

Mickey looks like she’s about to go in for the kill, but then her teasing look shifts to simple sympathy. “So? _Do_ you need company right now? Things… went okay?”

“I guess? This wasn’t how I wanted him to find out.”

“But he did find out. So now you can stop worrying about how to tell him. And you two looked pretty cozy when I came home.”

“Yeah, and then you saw how he reacted to the reminder that Lee knew first.”

“Well? You expected that, right?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t make it easier. Gah. If I’d just told him in January…”

“You were a wreck then. And what’s done is done. He knows now.”

Bless Mickey for not saying “I told you so.” Even if she did. Repeatedly.

“He thinks it’s going to get better. That we’re going to work this out.” I feel the tears coming. I’d managed to mostly hold it together while Noah was here, but I wasn’t lying about crying all the time being a joy of pregnancy.

“Oh lord, here we go again.” Mickey is a pro at handling weepy Elle by now. “Go sit down. Breathe.”

Mickey brings me a glass of water and then sits next to me.

“Wanting to work things out is good, right? That’s what you want, too?”

“Of course,” I nod. “But what if it’s only because… he thinks he has to. Because of the baby.”

“Elle, he was ready to follow you around the world in October. Just you, no baby. And the man I saw tonight did not look particularly trapped.”

“What if he thinks… _I_ ’m only doing it because of the baby?” The million-dollar question that’s been haunting me since January.

“Have you guys talked about what happened yet? About you freaking out and everything after?”

“Not yet. I was still catching him up on… this. We hadn’t gotten to October yet.”

“So get there. Soon. Talk to him. About all of it.”

“I know. He’s coming back next weekend. So I’ve got the week to get ready.”

“Anytime you want to talk about it, you know where I live.”

“Thanks, Mickey. But for now I think I need to just sleep.” It’s not even ten, but pregnancy has turned me into a senior citizen.

“Go to bed. I’ll finish the dishes for you.”

Mickey is laughing to herself when I walk by a few minutes later on my way from the bathroom to my room.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing. Just - remembering all the times I tried to set you up. And I thought I’d found some pretty fine specimens for you, but you were always so unimpressed. I get it now.”

“Good night, Mickey.” But I’m laughing too, because she’s right.


	17. After

_**(Noah)** _

The happy haze of having held Elle all evening carries me through the walk to my hotel, and after that I’m thrown back into the distracting chaos of the students. The other teachers ask why I’m so late, but don’t ask for details when I say a family emergency came up. Which is accurate, just not family members they’re aware of.

I spend the next few hours as the fun police, patrolling the hotel hallway for students intent on sneaking out, confiscating the alcohol they’ve not-so-cleverly concealed in their bags, and heckling them about how much better my friends and I were at getting away with this shit when we were in high school. One kid sarcastically replies “Yes, dad” the third time I tell him to turn his music down, and suddenly I am laughing too hard to breathe. I decide that’s my signal to throw in the towel on this long and strange day, and I retreat to my room after handing off supervisory duties to another teacher.

I’m too tired to overthink today’s news once I’m finally alone. There are still a thousand unanswered questions, but I focus on the few things I _did_ learn tonight. That Elle and I are four months away from parenthood, that I have once again failed to get over her, and that whatever her reasons for staying silent since October might have been, indifference to me likely wasn’t one of them. That will have to be enough for tonight. I debate whether to send Elle a message, and if so what, until I finally just send a long string of z’s, _Zzzzzzzzz_ , and hope that she remembers it’s what I used to send freshman year, when we had the time difference to deal with, to tell her I was shutting my phone off for the night.

Reality hits harder when I wake up. As it turns out, I don’t need that picture on my phone to convince me it wasn’t all a dream, as I wake up in a very real panic and need no reminding why. Mickey’s arrival and my need to return to work cut short our conversation just as it approached the hard topics. So many questions need answering, but most of them boil down to the same thing: What does Elle want?

She’d bolted in October at the prospect of me rearranging my life for her, at the idea of making long-term plans. Now we’re looking at having both our lives completely rearranged by the most long-term of connections. I’m terrified she’s going to run away again. Or worse, stay, but only because she feels trapped. I need to know that Elle’s finally willing to trust herself and trust that we can work this out. And I need to know that she’s not just forcing herself to do this, to reach out to me, because of the pregnancy. I laid my heart bare that weekend, and she’d just left. And never called. I hate to even entertain the thought, but it’s there anyway, bitterly asking whether Elle ever would have reappeared if not for this unexpected consequence.

I try not to read anything into her lack of reply to my message, reminding myself that 6 am on a Sunday is way too early for the Elle I know to be awake. And even if she doesn’t reply, I’ve learned my lesson on waiting for Elle to make the first move. I’m showing up next weekend regardless.

 

* * *

**_(Elle)_ **

I don’t know what to expect from Noah after he leaves, or when I might hear from him again. For once I’m grateful for the crushing exhaustion I’ve been feeling all pregnancy, because even my racing thoughts can’t keep me from falling asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. I wake ten hours later to the sound of Mickey clattering around in the kitchen. Dino must be ready for breakfast, because the kicking starts up immediately, and I massage at the spot he or she is targeting. This has become our morning ritual lately, but today, for the first time, it’s not accompanied by creeping dread about still not having told Noah.

The dread is gone because Noah knows. I may not get credit for having actually _told_ him so much as picked the right time for a swim, but it’s done. Noah knows, and none of my nightmare scenarios played out. Instead, we’re talking, and he’s coming back next weekend. There’s so much left to be worked out - such as where exactly we go from here - but it’s _something_.

When I check my messages before convincing myself to actually get up, I’m quietly delighted to recognize a long-ago favorite from Noah. I debate several possible responses and settle for _Glad I went swimming yesterday_ instead of anything too sappy. But then I get a little sappy anyway and pile every sonogram I’ve got saved to my phone into an email. It doesn’t erase my guilt at not having given him a chance to be there, but at least he’ll see them now.

Finally hunger drives me out of bed, and I’m thrilled to smell something baking when I exit my room.

“Cookies?” I ask hopefully. Mickey is the best baker.

“Yes, but you have to eat real breakfast first. I made enough oatmeal for both of us. And the cookies are for my study group, so try to only steal, like, half of them.”

I wasn’t kidding when I said Mickey’s been babysitting me these last few months. I haven’t been entirely on top of my life lately, but I’m going to have to shape up before I become responsible for a whole new person. I managed Brad alone for several months - a baby can’t be that much harder, right? I know the answer to that, I’m just choosing not to think about it right this minute.

I fill myself a mug from the coffee pot and Mickey stares me down.

“One cup.”

“Yes, Mickey. Just one cup.” Sometimes the babysitting goes overboard. Let’s not talk about how many cups of coffee this baby got before I was aware of their existence. At least I felt so crappy back then that I had no interest in alcohol.

“Lee said to call once you were up.”

“Lee said? To you?”

“Yes. And he was very relieved to hear Noah did not stay over. Something about how you’re supposed to talk before getting naked this time. He said to tell you that, too.”

Two of them. There are _two of them_ meddling now. I need to make some friends with lives of their own. Or just an understanding of boundaries.

“Is there even anything left for me to tell Lee, or did you already tell him everything?”

“Don’t give me that look. And I didn’t tell him anything, he just wanted to know if you were awake yet.”

“I’m not sure I approve of this unholy alliance you’ve set up.”

“I’m not sure you get a vote. But at least now you don’t need to worry about what we were planning in case you didn’t tell Noah soon.”

I eat my oatmeal and sip my one cup of coffee and think about how I want to phrase this next request.

“Hey, Mickey?” She’s busy sliding cookies off the baking sheet and onto the cooling rack, but turns to listen. “I appreciate how much you’re trying to help. And I’ve desperately needed that help. But I have to actually do this next part, the working things out with Noah, myself. So can your help just be... talking to me? Not - going behind my back or over my head?”

“Of course. I was mostly kidding about taking action if you didn’t. My plan was to nag you until _you_ did it. I can’t speak for Lee, of course.”

“Yeah, on that subject - I was enjoying having a friend who isn’t over-involved in both sides of this. This Lee and me and Noah thing is awkward at the best of times, so I was kind of selfishly hoping to keep you all to myself.”

“You know I’m always in your corner. That’s the only reason Lee and I were talking - because we both wanted to find a way to get you over this hurdle. And now Noah knows, no thanks to any of us, so I promise, I’m done. No scheming unless it’s with you.”

“Thanks.” She’s brought me a cookie fresh out of the oven and a glass of milk, so she’s forgiven.

“You may want to give Lee this speech, though. He seems to be taking all of this pretty personally.”

Yeah, Lee is his own situation. I should give him that call and see if I can rein him in before he turns this into his own personal mission.

* * *

Lee picks up on the first ring.

“Good morning, lazybones.”

“It’s not even nine yet. On a Sunday morning. Bite me.”

“My girlfriend might object. Not to mention - “

Too soon, Lee. Too soon for awkward Noah jokes. Thankfully he seems to come to the same realization, trailing off midsentence.

“So, I was told to call you.” I prompt him.

“I think you know why.”

“You don’t get a transcript of the evening, Lee. We talked. We’re going to keep talking. And nobody got naked - are you happy now?” I might have said that a little too harshly.

“Elle, I don’t expect a play by play. But last weekend talking to Noah seemed entirely impossible to you, so I just… wanted to make sure you were okay.”

And now I regret that harshness. Lee is just looking out for me. “I think I am. He didn’t take it as badly as I thought he might.” I resist the temptation to ask whether Lee has heard from Noah. If I don’t want Lee getting in the middle, I need to not put him there.

“Did you talk about October?”

I sigh in response. “Not really. I was still catching him up on this pregnancy thing. We didn’t get much further, and then he said he had to go.”

“Coward.” I’m not sure if Lee means me for not addressing my freak out yet, or Noah for running off so soon. Possibly both.

“I spent a month in denial when I found out. I can’t fault him for needing time.”

“He should have stayed anyway.”

I wish he’d stayed longer, too. “He’s coming back, next weekend.”

“Did you at least tell him you were going to call him before all this?”

“No. Not yet.”

“ _Elle_.”

“I know, I know. But now I have all week to get ready.”

“Well, we’re not done talking about this.”

“Lee - _I_ have to do this. Not you.”

“Yeah. But you’re… really bad at it.”

“Lee!”

“Just being honest.” He’s not wrong, but he is obnoxious.

“I’m going to tell him, all of it. Next weekend.”

“No. Tell him before the weekend. Before he shows up.”

“Why?”

“What happened the last time I told you to talk _before_ getting naked? Because there’s apparently only so many minutes you two can spend in each other’s presence before your mutual insanity hits and you stop talking.”

“That was different.”

“Yeah, I hope so. This time _needs_ to be different. Because you don’t have another five months to waste.”

“I promise you I am acutely aware of the timeline.”

“Good. So have these conversations soon. Before Mickey and I go insane.”

“You and Mickey aren’t the priority here. And you and Mickey need to stay in your lane.”

“See, my problem is that I don’t really get a lane in this situation. More like a super narrow median between two freeways. So sometimes directing traffic is a necessity so I don’t get wiped out by a semi. Or so two semis don’t crash head-on.”

“Am I… a freeway in this metaphor? Or a semi? Wait, is this a joke about my being as huge as a truck?”

“It’s not a great metaphor. But I think you get my point. I’d love to stay in my lane, if you’d let me have one.”

“You do have a lane. Go find it instead of hanging out in the median like an idiot with a death wish.”

“I don’t think you’re understanding the metaphor if you think escaping the median is an option for me.”

“No, I’m probably not. Semis are notoriously bad at understanding the finer points of metaphors.” I can’t help it, I’m laughing now.

“The metaphor is dead. You have killed it. You have run it off the road into a ditch and it is dead.” Lee sounds aggrieved, but he’s laughing too.

“So I _am_ a truck in this metaphor?”

“Yes, Elle. This entire conversation was actually just an elaborate joke about how huge you aren’t. I’m glad we’re communicating so well. This bodes really well for those other conversations you need to have this week.”

“Wait, I’m writing down this great advice. _Don’t build important conversation around really tortured metaphor._ Okay, got it. I should be good now.” We’re both still laughing and I’m grateful to Lee for lightening the mood, even if I’m not entirely reassured about his intention to stay out of this.

“Alright, got to go. It’s already noon here and I have plans for today. Get your lazy ass up and go study or something so you’re not knocked up _and_ a dropout.”

“Love you too, jerk.”

 

* * *

_**(Noah)** _

The second day of the tournament is hectic and after leaving my room I don’t glance at my phone again until noon. I’m relieved to find messages waiting from Elle. _Glad I went swimming yesterday._ Yeah, me too. And then, _Sent pictures to your email._ The pictures turn out to be more sonogram scans, including an early one which Elle has decorated with cartoon dinosaur stickers and captioned “See? Very dinosaur-like.” She’s working very hard to make “Dino” happen, I’ll give her that. I’m trying to stare at the pictures without attracting the notice of my students when a message arrives from Lee.

_When do you get back home?_

_Why?_

_So we can talk about your situation._

_I didn’t realize talking was a thing we did._

_It is now. So, when?_

_Not leaving before 5, so not home until late. I’ll call this week when I get a chance._

_Sure you will. Later._

The last round of matches goes late, so it’s closer to six when we pile into the team bus and well past one in the morning when it drops us off on campus. I’ve spent the ride staring at the pictures Elle sent and trying to wrap my head around the timeline we’re dealing with and all the decisions I’m going to need to make very soon about my job, my apartment, and my life in general. As I walk up the stairs to my apartment, I’m seriously debating cancelling tomorrow morning’s early workout. And then I walk down the hall and find Lee sitting at my door, slumped over his backpack, asleep.

I nudge him awake.

“Yowch! Watch it!” Okay, so nudged might have been too weak a word for my attempt to get Lee awake and out of my way.

“What the hell, Lee?”

“Told you. We need to talk.” He’s rubbing his eyes and then slowly standing up from the floor.

“Right now? At 2 am? No.”

“Fine. In the morning.” Lee looks like he could use a night of sleep himself.

“And your phone and every other phone in Cambridge broke, so you decided getting on a plane made sense?”

“For this? Yeah.”

Whatever. I’m not arguing with Lee at two in the morning. I can tell him he’s an idiot once we’ve both gotten some sleep; it’ll still be true. I throw him a pillow and a blanket before retreating to my room.


	18. Brothers

_Previously:_ Lee showed up. Because of course he did.

 

**_(Noah)_ **

Lee is still dead to the world when I head out Monday morning, so I don’t speak to him again until that evening after practice. He’s made himself at home on my couch, his laptop open in front of him and papers surrounding him. I recall that his master’s thesis is due soon and I’d feel guilty about disrupting his work if I’d had any input on his decision to fly out here.

“If you’d told me you were coming out here, I could have told you not to bother showing up before tonight, and spared you that nap outside my door.”

“And where would the fun in that have been? Plus, apparently people appearing out of the blue is the only way you and Elle ever make progress.”

I roll my eyes at Lee. “So. You’re here. Why?”

“You really need to ask? You, Elle, a surprise bundle of joy to finally merge the Evans and Flynn clans?

“I’m aware. No thanks to you. But given your long-standing policy of claiming you want to stay out of it while also guarding Elle’s secrets, I have to wonder why you’re here.”

“You two have never actually let me stay out of it.” I hike my eyebrows at this. “Fine. _Elle_ has never really let me stay out of it. Plus, circumstances have changed. I have a new policy.”

“Which is?”

“Someone’s got to look out for that kid’s best interests while you guys figure your shit out. I’m not getting in between the two of you when it comes to your relationship, but I’m going to be Team Dino. Because that’s my niece or nephew and you guys can be idiots sometimes.”

Great. Because we definitely need a third person involved. Especially _this_ third person. “You know Dino is off the table for the real name, right?”

“We’ll see about that. I’d also settle for Lee. Which I should note would work either way, boy or girl.”

“Never happening. And have you shared this new policy with Elle?”

“Not yet. But I don’t need her permission, or yours. Uncle Lee is a free agent.”

“You’ve got to stop calling yourself ‘Uncle Lee.’ It might be the most disturbing part of all this.”

“Yes, well, you’ve only got yourself to blame for giving me that title. By the way, the next time you’re searching my room for condoms? The camera case on my desk.”

Information that would have been useful five months ago, Lee. And of course he’s heard that detail of the story, because Elle has no filter. Except apparently when it came to telling me about this turn of events. But I keep all that to myself and merely glare at Lee.

“Oh, come on. It’s a _little_ funny, right? Or are we not yet at the laughing about it phase?”

“So you flew out here just to harass me?”

“Nah. I flew out here because we need to talk and you’re really good at dodging me. I figured I’d be harder to ignore in person.”

I have to smile at that one. I toss Lee the stack of delivery menus. “Make yourself useful and order us dinner while I go shower.”

“Oh, I don’t get the home-cooked meal treatment? Elle told me you cook now. Or is that only when you’re trying to get into girls’ pants?”

I flip Lee the bird on my way to my room.

* * *

 

I manage to keep Lee on other topics while we eat, but soon enough he leans back in his chair and stares intently at me.

“So. Enough dodging. We’re talking about it now.”

“Elle didn’t already tell you everything the minute I left?” That’s how our fights worked in college. Elle would end up spilling every detail to Lee, Lee would attempt to stay out of it while passive-aggressively expressing his judgment to me, I would ignore Lee and eventually work things out with Elle. Until the time we didn’t manage to work things out.

“No. She only told me a little bit, the next day. Which is when I bought the plane ticket.”

“She made it sound that bad?”

“No. She seemed pretty relieved, actually, compared to last week. But it also sounds like you didn’t manage to cover some key points. So scratch what I said about not getting in between the two of you, because I’m done letting you guys flail around on your own. Your track record is too spectacularly bad when it comes to necessary conversations.”

Awesome, Lee’s jumping in. Couldn’t have predicted that one. “Does Elle know you’re doing this?”

“Nope. And she’ll probably kill me. But watching you guys screw this up would kill me for sure, so I’ll take my chances on Elle forgiving me. Plus, I’m Team Dino, remember. Getting you two straightened out sooner rather than later is in their best interests.”

“Is there any chance of you ever not being completely over-involved in my life again?”

“Yes. Go back in time, don’t fall for my best friend.”

I snort at this. I tried and failed at not falling for Elle, and then I tried and failed at getting over her. Several times. “Fine. Tell me what you flew across the country to tell me.”

I shouldn’t let Lee do this. I should speak up for Elle, rather than let Lee spill her secrets. I should be telling him to stay out of it. But I’ve spent the past five months wondering what happened, and we have no time left to waste. I at least want to hear what it is Lee thinks I need to know.

“Give me a minute. If I’m going to break confidentiality I need to get it right.”

I use the pause to retrieve beers from the refrigerator. Lee accepts his gratefully and I remind myself this triangle is as awkward for him as it is for me. We’re probably all kidding ourselves pretending like him staying out of it is even a possibility. Especially now.

“Ok. So. Two basic points you need to understand. And deserve to know. First, that Elle is terrified you won’t forgive her for October, and that if you stick around it will only be because of the baby. Second, that Elle was so damn close to calling you, before this all happened. But now she’s afraid you’re going to think she’s only talking to you because of the baby.”

“So she was putting off telling me about the baby, because she was afraid I’d think it was about the baby?” That wouldn’t actually be the craziest bit of Elle-logic I’ve encountered.

“She was going to tell you. She just hadn’t figured out how yet. Because of what I just said. And if she didn’t manage it soon, Mickey and I had plans.”

“Ah yes. Mickey mentioned. I’m so glad there are two of you meddling now.”

“Don’t knock Mickey. She’s probably your best ally in this. And the only one of us that saw what was going on. Which brings me back to October. Maybe that’s where I should have started this. With what happened in October. With what was happening even before.”

I wait for Lee to go on.

“I should have seen it earlier. Like, two years earlier. You should have seen it too, although I guess you’re the one who got pushed away, so you didn’t get much of a chance. But _I_ should have realized.”

“Realized _what_?”

“Her mom died. For four years you and I watched Elle desperately hold on to hope and then have to accept her mom was going to die anyway. And, somehow, she bounced back and kept on going like half her heart hadn’t been ripped out. And five years later everything’s great and then overnight it’s her dad that’s barely hanging on and Elle running around being brave for Brad like she’s not living her worst nightmares. How didn’t we see what it was doing to her?”

“I tried to help. To not have her go it alone.” I would have gladly dropped everything to stay with Elle - if she’d wanted me there.

“Yeah, I know. But Elle wasn’t exactly rational then and you took it personally when she didn’t immediately accept your help on exactly the terms offered. You got mad and you let her push you away.”

“These insights would have been really helpful two years ago.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t get it either then. I mean, I got it a little—and don’t pretend like I didn’t try to get you two talking again, early on. But I was seeing it strictly as a you-and-Elle problem, and missing the larger _Elle_ problem. Which was her being completely traumatized and terrified about everything in her life turning to dust on her. But I guess I didn’t notice her brave-face routine because she’s been pulling it since we were eleven. Maybe if I’d realized how much she was still struggling with trusting anything in her life to last I could have warned you before you showed up in October.”

“Before _you_ strongly hinted I should go visit Elle, you mean?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I still didn’t see it then. Although, to be fair, I also didn’t think you were going to start making grand declarations at her the minute you’d reconciled.”

Whatever blame Lee may be putting on himself for October can’t compare to my shame at having given up so easily two years ago. At not having realized Elle needed so much more patience from me. At still not having had a clue in October. I’m replaying the worst moments of our fight by the pool, and realizing how blind I was. How focused on my own hurt feelings instead of hearing what Elle was really saying.

“Anyway, Mickey’s the one who saw it,” Lee continues. “She saw it as soon as Elle told her what happened in October. I guess she’d already been witnessing Elle freak out all year about making plans for the future in general. So you should be thanking your lucky stars Mickey meddled, as you put it, because she’s the one who finally called Elle out and got her to get help.”

“Help?”

“Some kind of counseling. She hasn’t told me all the details. Just that she’s finally talking to someone about everything that’s happened, and dealing with her trauma instead of pretending everything is fine.”

“Is this what you were trying to tell me at Thanksgiving?”

“No. I didn’t know any of that yet. She told me about it later, at Christmas. At Thanksgiving I just knew how guilty and panicked Elle sounded when she tried to talk about what happened with you. How lost she sounded. And I wanted you to know she wasn’t intentionally avoiding you. She just really couldn’t deal. But you were too stuck in your own anger to listen to me.”

“I’m listening this time.”

“Elle was going to talk to you at Christmas, by the way. And then you blew off dinner like a coward, and she figured you were still too mad at her.”

“I lost track of time. It was too late to drive back.” Yeah, I don’t believe me either.

“Sure. Just like something’s come up every other time there was any chance you might have to face Elle these past couple years. Total coincidence. Anyway, in January she was telling me again that she was going to call you, that she wasn’t sure what she’d say but she was ready to try. But then she went radio silent all of a sudden. Ignored my messages, ducked my calls. And even when she started talking to me again, she didn’t want to talk about you at all.”

“Because she’d found out.”

“Right. And I guess that brings us to now. And I was trying really damn hard to let you two hash this out yourselves, because you need to. But I also thought you needed to know, now, right away, as you react to this news - that she was going to call you. Before this all got so much more complicated. That this baby isn’t why she’s talking now.”

“I should have gone to Christmas dinner.”

“Uh, yeah. Or manned up at any other point in the past five months and called and told her you’d be patient, instead of your bullshit ‘tell me when you’re ready to take this seriously’ ultimatum. Because you know she always has.”

Easy for Lee to say when he’s never been the one she walks away from. I don’t answer him. He stares hard at me for a minute, and then his expression changes, softens.

“Come on, man. She’s never not been just as crazy all-in as you are. She’s just had more shit to deal with. Which she _is_ dealing with, and actually trying to work through. So cut her some slack, give her the benefit of the doubt, and just - be there.”

We sit in silence for a while, staring at our beers, and then Lee looks up at me again.

“Did you see the stars?”

“The stars?”

“On Elle’s shoulder blade. The tattoo. Given the present situation I’m assuming you’re familiar again with her shirtless form.”

I glare at him, but nod. I do remember noticing the stars.

“Christmas break a year ago. Over a year after you guys broke up. You skipped out on dinner, as usual. Elle got _really_ drunk and mopey that night, then declared I was her North Star and she was mine. And then decided we needed to make it official. Somehow she talked me into getting stars tattooed on our shoulders. So she’d know I was always there.”

“There is literally nothing Elle could ask that you’d say no to, is there?”

“You’re one to talk. But yeah, I agreed. If you’d been there and seen how sad she was, you would have agreed to anything too. Also, did I mention there was a lot of alcohol involved?” Lee reaches for the hem of his tee shirt and pulls it over his right shoulder, turning halfway. “Do you notice anything?”

There they are over his shoulder blade, two barely-visible blue stars. I wonder what Lee’s point is, other than reminding me yet again that Elle loved him first. Sure, not the same way, I get it. But I’m not sure that being the one whose love scares her is actually the preferable position.

“It’s the same tattoo Elle has. The blue stars. You’re each other’s guiding stars, I get it. Adorable.”

“Not exactly the same. Did you count hers?” Lee ignores my sarcasm and shrugs back into his shirt.

I think back to watching Elle sleep that weekend. The memory is vivid and the remembered joy of the moment is shadowed by how quickly everything was about to go wrong. “Elle’s had… three.”

“Yeah.”

“So?”

“We decided on the design together. Two tiny blue stars. I went first, and then Elle. Except when I saw her shoulder after, there was a third star.”

“And?”

“God, you’re dense. It’s you. The tattoo artist started inking and suddenly Elle decided she needed _you_ there too. Even though you hadn’t talked to her in over a year by then. She still wanted you there, all three of us together. She never stopped believing it was going to work out somehow, someday. She has never not taken you seriously. None of this is because of the baby. It was always going to be you.”

Suddenly I burst out laughing. This is probably the least appropriate reaction, but I cannot help it. We are idiots and we have wasted so much freaking time these last few years being idiots instead of talking to each other.

“Not the reaction I expected.”

“It’s just… fitting. She could have called and shared this sentiment with me, but instead she told _you_ and made a secret grand gesture I couldn’t possibly know about.”

“Would you have picked up, if she’d called?”

“Probably.” I was done being angry by then. “Why didn’t you tell me? Then, I mean.”

“Because it wasn’t my place to tell. And because back then you’d change the subject any time I mentioned Elle.”

“But today it’s your place to tell?”

“Like I said, circumstances have changed. The stakes have changed. And trying to stay out of it hasn’t been working anyway. Although the rest of all this backstory you’re going to need to get from Elle. But I just needed you to understand what she’s been making herself crazy worrying about. That you’d think she’d only reached out because of the baby.”

“How could she think that?”

“It didn’t cross your mind, not even a little?”

Lee’s right. I hate that he is, but I can’t say I haven’t at least considered whether Elle would ever have called if she weren’t pregnant. How the conversation would have gone if we’d run into each other this weekend and Elle weren’t pregnant.

“Maybe a little.” I admit.

“Which is why I’m here. Because I need you to know how wildly wrong that is.”

I finish the last of my beer and idly pick at a tear in the label.

“There was another thing you said you wanted me to know, earlier. That Elle is afraid I won’t forgive her for October. Does she… really think that?”

“Yeah. Or at least she did before this weekend. I don’t know now.”

So that’s the first item for discussion, then. Telling Elle she’s not the one who needs to be forgiven for October and its aftermath. I should have heard what she was saying. I should have sucked up my pride and called her afterward. I should have listened when Lee tried to talk sense into me.

“Are you going to tell Elle I told you all this?” Lee’s voice interrupts the thoughts I’d started getting lost in.

“Should I? Keeping more secrets seems like the opposite of what we need. But she’s not going to like this.”

“Yeah, well, if you do tell her, tell her I did it for Dino. But I leave it up to you.”

“Thanks for telling me, though. I did need to hear it. And I know none of this is easy for you.”

“Whatever. I still owe you for being such a dick about you two at first.”

I smile ruefully. “Fair.”

“Ok, taking off my Uncle Lee—don’t give me that look—hat and my Elle’s best friend hat, putting on my brother hat. Which is way too many hats, but I’m learning to juggle. How are you with all this?”

Aha, an appearance by Lee, my brother, as opposed to Lee, my runaway-soulmate’s confidante. Sometimes I wonder what our relationship would be like if I’d never fallen for Elle. But probably worse, actually. For all the tensions created by our triangle, Elle’s also forced us to grow up and get along. It’s not like I was the best brother to Lee before Elle happened.

“So you can tell Elle?”

“Only if you tell me stuff she desperately needs to know and then fail to tell her for months. That’s my secret-spilling threshold, apparently. But seriously, no, I’m not asking for Elle. I told you, this is the brother part of the conversation. So, again I ask, where are _you_ with all of this?”

“I’m… in a lot of places right now.”

“Good places? Bad places?”

“Mostly the former. But also a lot of confusing places.”

“You’re going to make this like pulling teeth, aren’t you? Okay, so I’ll cut to the chase. Are you still in love with her?”

“What do you think?”

“I know what I think. I’m just wondering if you’ve admitted it to yourself yet, or if you’re still mad about October.”

“Both. Although now most of that anger is directed at me.”

“Progress. Does the baby change any of that?”

“How can it not? I mean, I know I’m supposed to say that the baby changes nothing. But of course it does. It doesn’t change how I feel about Elle. At all. But it changes the stakes. I’d gotten pretty good at getting on with my life despite never getting over her, and now that’s not an option. Or at least, not an option I’m willing to entertain. And as you like to remind me, our track record isn’t great. So we need to get it right this time, and we need to not waste another two years. So I guess the baby makes everything… more important.”

“For the record, I don’t doubt you will get it right. And I’ll be glad for it.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Lee?”

“Come on. You know the only thing worse for me than you guys together is you guys apart.”

“Pretty sure that’s a change of heart on your part.”

“Not a terribly recent one. I mean, yeah, if you two could possibly have done me the favor of falling for literally anyone else on the planet, that would have been a hell of a lot easier. Anyone else. Anyone at all. But, you didn’t. So given that, I need you guys to work this out. And now Dino needs you to work this out.”

“Please, stop calling them that. It’s a terrible name.”

“We’ll win you over. And “it” sounds way worse. Did Elle show you the pictures?”

“Yeah.” I can’t help but grin.

“Crazy, right? That there’s like a miniature person in there, just hanging out and leeching nutrients from her blood? It’s like a horror movie. But also amazing.”

“Not the comparison I would have gone for, but okay.” We can agree on the amazing part.

“And congratulations, man. I mean, I know it’s all weird right now, but this is going to be awesome. Assuming you guys can avoid being idiots. But I’ll be there to keep that from happening.”

“Thanks. We need you on our side.” Much as it pains me to admit.

“And remember, Lee is a classic name that any child would be proud to have.”

“Nice try. Still not happening.”

“I’m just getting started. But you’re happy about the baby, yeah?”

“Thrilled with a side of terrified.”

“Sounds about right. Make sure Elle knows about the thrilled part, not just the terrified part.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Ok, enough heartfelt sentiment. I have a thesis to edit. You’re going to tell me you have work to do, but really you’re going to go send Elle some kind of schmoopy text, which I absolutely do not need to hear about. My work here is done, so I’m gonna book that return flight for tomorrow. Good talk?”

“Good talk.”


	19. Telephonic Progress

**_A/N:_** _Hopping back a day compared to the end of Chapter 18. We’re back to Elle and back to Sunday night - before Lee and Noah have talked._

* * *

  ** _(Elle)_**

As on most Sunday afternoons, I head home to see Dad and Brad. I spend the drive there debating whether to tell Dad I’ve seen Noah this weekend. On the one hand, it will put an end to his increasingly relentless hounding about when I’m going to tell Noah. On the other hand, that just means Dad will move on to hounding me about our plans, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that. I finally decide I’ve had enough of keeping secrets.

I do pick my moment carefully. I wait until dinner, after we’ve polished off the very cheesy lasagna I made and have moved on to ice cream, figuring that Brad’s presence and the beginnings of a food coma will both make for a mellower Dad. I try to think of a casual way to bring it up, but eventually give in and bite the bullet.

“So, ah, I saw Noah yesterday.”

Dad immediately puts down his spoon and stares at me, but it’s Brad who jumps in first.

“Really? Is he home? Can I go see him?” Trust Brad to care not at all about what this means for me and the Dino situation. Brad has long considered Noah the coolest person he knows, and I’m pretty sure half of his excitement upon learning about the baby had to do with assuming it would mean Noah hanging out here again.

“No, he was just on campus for a sports thing. With his students. I think he’s on his way back now.”

“You didn’t tell me Noah was coming to visit.” Dad is still giving me the laser stare and I suddenly find my ice cream fascinating to look down at.

“I didn’t know ahead of time. We just… ran into each other.”

“I see. And did you _talk_?”

I know what Dad is really asking. “Yes. I told him about... the baby. And we talked for a little while. Until he had to go back to his students.” It’s true I told Noah about the baby. No need to mention it was only after he stumbled upon the news himself.

I can tell Dad has a hundred questions ready to go, but Brad beats him to it again. “So is he coming back? He’s going to move here now, right? Do you think he would coach my team when he moves back?”

Okay, so _some_ of those questions are the same ones Dad wants answered.

“It’s been one day, guys. We didn’t get to all the details. And you play baseball, Brad. That’s a completely different sport.”

“Speaking of, Brad, weren’t you supposed to wash your practice gear tonight? Why don’t you go do that while Elle and I do the dishes.” It is very much not a question the way Dad says it. Apparently it’s time for some solo interrogation.

Brad blithely goes off to the laundry room after making me promise to at least _ask_ Noah if he would coach his baseball team. Noah will love to hear that Brad’s hero worship continues unabated.

I start gathering the plates, but Dad gently puts a hand on my arm.

“Sit, Elle. The dishes can wait.”

I sit back down and refill my iced tea, wishing it were something a bit stronger.

“So, you’ve told Noah. And how did he take it?”

An excellent question that I haven’t yet fully thought through myself. “Better than I feared, I guess. I mean, really shocked. And confused. But he said he thinks we can… work this out.” I don’t really want to go into all the details with Dad. The tender moments and the uncomfortable moments and then that kiss.

“Mmmmhmmm. You’d better. And you’d better start working on some of those other questions Brad had.”

“Yes, Dad. I know. We know. And he’s coming back this weekend so we can have more of those conversations.”

“So I should call June and set up family lunch for next Sunday?”

“No! God, Dad, no, not yet. Please, no family lunch. We’re not quite at that point.”

Dad’s smile is knowing and I suspect he suggested the lunch mostly to mess with me. “Okay, maybe not this weekend. But soon I’m going to run out of vague answers when June asks what you’re up to and why they haven’t seen you in so long.”

“I know. I promise. And Noah is after me to tell June, too.”

“Of course. Because June is going to be thrilled.”

“But not Matthew?” Not to mention, you, Dad. Is it just June who’s going to see the bright side?

“Honey, all of us are going to be thrilled to have a grandchild. We’ll just be happier once we know you two are happy about it.”

“Yeah, me too. So maybe give us a little time to figure out our plan, and then we can break the news.”

“Not too long. You don’t need everything figured out. Nobody ever has a complete plan for something like this. You just need to both want to make it work.”

“Yes, Dad. I know. But it’s been one day. Can we have this conversation next week?”

“Oh, I promise we’ll be having this conversation again next week. And as many weeks as it takes.”

“You’re not going to… show up at Noah’s door or anything, are you?”

“Not _this_ week.”

“Well that’s a terrifyingly narrow denial.”

Dad just smiles and pats my arm again. “Come on, let’s get to those dishes.”

We chat about easier topics while we clean up, about classes and work and Brad’s baseball schedule. I hear my phone buzz a few times, and once we’re done I go to check it. It’s Noah, finally.

_Headed back._

_Thanks for the pictures. Tell Mickey thanks but no thanks on naming my child Dino._

_Can I call you tomorrow night?_

_Would have called you tonight but stuck on bus full of nosy students. Not much I want to tell you that they need to hear._

Noah was never one for overly sappy texts. I’ll settle for assuming that last one was intended at least a little bit cheekily.

_You can always call. But if it’s after ten I’ll probably be asleep._

Apparently Noah is still on his phone, because he replies immediately.

_10?? Do I have the wrong number?_

_Funny. You try growing a whole new person, see how much energy you have._

_Nah. I leave it to you. One is enough for us to deal with._

_Seriously._

_Ok, gotta get to studying and then those ten hours of sleep. Dino says good night even if you keep dissing its name._

I had written and deleted “Dino sends its love” a couple times before falling back on the safer option.

_you too_

A few minutes later my phone buzzes again. Noah has managed to find a gif of a snoring cartoon dinosaur. I’m calling this one a win. Dad sees me laughing at my phone and smiles to himself.

Dad doesn’t mention Noah again while we hang out after dinner, but he gives me an extra-tight hug as I’m leaving and says “Telling Noah was a big step. I know you’ll figure out the rest of it. And if you do ever need me to go scare sense into him, you just say the word. But you’re not going to need to.”

I drive back to my apartment feeling distinctly more relaxed than I’d driven over.

* * *

 Noah doesn’t end up calling on Monday; instead, I get an apologetic message that afternoon saying something’s come up and promising to call Tuesday. Mickey tells me not to read anything worrisome into it, and I’m further reassured when another sleeping dinosaur cartoon shows up at 10 p.m. on the dot. I’m not even sure where he’s finding these.

Tuesday morning, Mickey compliments my outfit, and I realize that for the first time in ages I’m not hiding behind a bulky jacket or baggy sweater. I’m wearing a long clingy top over my favorite pair of yoga pants, and I look distinctly pregnant. And damn cute, Mickey says. Somehow the idea of all my classmates knowing no longer feels as overwhelming. The most important person finally knows, so everyone else might as well too. Well, maybe not June and Matthew, at least not quite yet - and I’m making Noah share that announcement. But thankfully the Flynns don’t tend to hang out in the UCLA chemistry buildings or student center, so the tell-tale bump and I can walk around freely.

Of course, I should have realized that finally looking unambiguously, unmistakably pregnant is going to invite a lot of questions along with the congratulations. After a couple repeats of the same awkward conversation, I discover that responding to congratulations with “Thanks! We’re very excited!” seems to be enough to satisfy most people that there is a father involved and avoid further questions. For the more persistent, the ones nosy enough to point out they had no idea I was even seeing anyone, I end up vaguely referencing a boyfriend in San Francisco I’ve been dating forever. Which is… truth-adjacent, at least at the level of detail I’m willing to provide to casual acquaintances. And then I do my best to change the subject before they start asking if I’m moving there and if we’re getting married.

In the afternoon I get a message from Noah asking if nine would be too late to call, and I tell him it would not. By a quarter of nine I am in my room, trying not to stare too hard at my phone as I will it to ring. It seems impossible to think that we haven’t actually done this, spoken on the phone, in well over two years. Not since the final furious hangup of the breakup. I’ve only recently started to understand how things got so hostile so fast. How I poured all my anger and fear about Dad into fighting with Noah, until one day there just wasn’t another call. My therapist tells me it’s classic, people blowing up relationships after trauma. Knowing that doesn’t actually reduce the guilt, but maybe at some point I’ll be able to tell Noah it was never about him. And then the phone rings and I startle as though I hadn’t just been waiting for it to do exactly that.

It’s awkward, at first. We exchange hellos. Noah apologizes for not having been able to call Monday night - something about a last minute school event. He asks how I’m doing. We trade small talk about what we’ve been up to since Saturday. And then we slowly relax. We remember how to talk to each other, how to just hang out on the phone. We don’t discuss the pregnancy or the state of our relationship, we just trade stories about work and school and funny things we saw. It’s not that I’m avoiding bringing up serious topics, but I’ve missed this part too, the rambling calls about our days.

I’m sprawled in my office chair, one leg tucked under me, idly spinning myself as Noah tells me about a book he’s just finished, and suddenly I yelp as my chair slides and I spin right into my dresser.

“Elle?” Noah asks.

“It’s nothing. Just… whacked my leg on something.”

He laughs. “Are you doing the spinning again? One scar isn’t enough?”

Because of course he knows exactly what just happened. Because he’s teased me a hundred times about my inability to sit still while talking on the phone.

“Maybe.”

“I’ve missed listening to you whirl around your room while we talk.”

He says it jokingly, but my eyes fill with tears. And I know everything makes me cry right now, but I don’t think it’s the hormones this time.  For three years we talked like this almost every night not spent together. Sometimes endless conversations and sometimes just a quick goodnight. Sometimes with the video on, sometimes just Noah’s voice in my ear. And then he was gone.

“Elle?” I don’t know if he’s heard the change in my breathing or is just concerned that I haven’t replied.

Maybe it’s time for the real conversation. Maybe it will be easier on the phone, not having to face him. I take a few deep breaths to get the tears in check.

“Noah- I’m sorry. For not calling. After our weekend, and then, for so long. For making us lose all this time. And all the time before. The years. I don’t know why I let it go so long.” The words come pouring out. Noah tries to interject, but I’m afraid if I stop I’ll lose my nerve. “I don’t know how it got so bad back then. I kept thinking I just needed a little more time, a little more stability with Dad, and then I’d call you and we’d realize how stupid we were being, but I never managed it. And then it just seemed… too late. And I’ve missed this so much. Talking to you. And I just wanted to tell you that, and how sorry I am, for causing all this.” I am a sobbing mess now and I’m glad Noah isn’t here to see it.

“ _Elle_. Please. Slow down a second.” Noah finally manages to interrupt. “You didn’t cause all this. Not alone. And I thought maybe we’d save these conversations for in person, but if we’re doing this now, I have apologies to make too. I should have listened to you better, in October. I was confused and then I was hurt and somehow I didn’t hear half of what you were saying. But now I’ve been replaying all of it and I’m just so sorry. And two years ago - God, Elle, I don’t know how we let it get so bad either. But when I said in October that those years were on you, I wish I could take that back.”

“Why? It was true.”

“No, it wasn’t. Maybe I thought it was then, but it never was.” Noah pauses. “I hate doing this over the phone. I don’t want to _not_ have this conversation. I just wish you were here.”

“Yeah. Maybe we should… table this. Until you’re here. But I just needed to get this out. How sorry I am for freaking out and pushing you away and creating this mess.”

I hear Noah hesitate. “We’ll talk about it more, when I get there. But for tonight - if you’re blaming everything this year on you, or if you think I believe that - please don’t.” I think I hear him pacing. Noah only gets restless on the phone when he’s upset, unlike my perpetual motion that only stops when things get bad. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since Saturday. We both created this mess. You don’t need to apologize. Or maybe we both do. But I’m not mad at you, if that’s what you think.”

“How could you not be?”

“Even if I were, or had been, what would the point be, now? It would just be more time wasted. I don’t want to be mad at you. So I’m just not going to be. And hopefully you can feel the same about all the ways I screwed this up.” He’s definitely pacing now, and his voice is raw.

He makes it sound so simple, and maybe it is. That maybe we can just… decide not to be angry. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Noah laughs, and I can’t help but do the same. “Well, that was easier than I expected. We should have tried the ‘let’s just not be mad anymore’ option years ago.”

“Yeah, well, we were idiots. And we’re a little more… motivated now.”

We’re both silent for a while. I wonder whether to tell Noah more. Even if he seems to want to just move on from October, I still need him to understand. To know I was never not taking him seriously. Not then, not two years ago. But maybe this is enough for tonight.

Noah is the first to break the silence. “So, we should figure out this weekend. Because I really would rather have these conversations in person. Would it be okay if I flew down Saturday morning? I’d been hoping to leave Friday, but now the dean is hosting a recruiting reception and apparently the football staff skipping is not an option.”

“I could come up, instead.” I say impulsively. I hadn’t thought about it until now, but suddenly I want to see where Noah’s been these past two years. “How late do you think the reception will go? I don’t have Friday afternoon classes, so I could drive and be there after you’re done.”

“That’s a crazy drive alone. Not to mention back again.”

“I don’t mind. I’d like to see this school. Lee claims it’s more ridiculous than Country Day, which seems impossible.”

“Different ridiculous, maybe. And I like the idea of showing you around here, but not the you driving part. If I say I’ll buy you a plane ticket, can we skip the whole argument about how it’s too much and jump ahead to when you just let me do it?”

I laugh. It’s possible we had that discussion a time or ten during Noah’s freshman year at Harvard. And it is a really long drive.

“Fine. Tell me how late you’ll be busy Friday and I’ll tell you which flight I want.”

Suddenly another logistical question occurs to me. Am I… staying with Noah? I have no idea if he’s living on his own or with roommates, or if there’s a place for me to sleep other than with him. Which, don’t get me wrong, is where I’d like to end up. But we’ve done enough to prove Lee’s point about not getting naked before we talk. I guess it has to be asked.

“Hey, uh, I know we haven’t really talked about everything yet. And I guess I just invited myself over, but I wasn’t assuming- ”

“Are you asking if you can stay with me?” Noah chuckles.

Well, maybe more like asking if I _should_ stay with him. “Sort of.”

“And you think I’d ever disagree? You can send me to sleep on the couch if you want, but of course stay here.”

Not so much a question of what I want. More a question of whether what I want is a good idea. And I’m glad this isn’t a video call and Noah can’t see me blush. “Thanks. We can, ah, figure out the details when I get there, I guess.”

There’s an awkward pause, and then Noah speaks up again.

“It’s a little past ten. Is this when you turn into a pumpkin?”

“I took a nap this afternoon, I can probably survive a little longer.” Noah laughs at this. “Yes, I know, it’s so hilarious. Mock the tired pregnant lady.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mock. It’s just - the traditional end to our calls was me pointing out I had to be awake at six a.m. for practice and you trying to convince me I didn’t actually need to go to sleep yet. And then I’d wake up and see messages from you sent at three in the morning. Or, my personal favorite, when I’d wake up and you’d _still be awake_.”

“You know who else thinks this karmic comeuppance as to my sleeping habits is hilarious? _My dad_. So before you keep going, ask yourself if that’s really who you want to remind me of.”

Noah laughs harder. “Point made. I’m done, I promise.”

“I told him, by the way.”

“Him - your dad? About… seeing me?”

“Yeah. We had dinner on Sunday. And Brad, too. You’re still Brad’s idol, by the way. I’m supposed to ask you if you’ll coach his baseball team if you move back here.” I realize too late that the topic of where Noah will live next year is maybe one he and I should discuss before I tell him Brad expects him to move here.

“Brad knows I’ve never played baseball, right?”

“Unclear. You’ll have to explain that to him. But bear in mind you’ll be crushing his hopes and dreams.”

“I’ve missed that kid.” Noah pauses. “So, your dad knows I know? How many days until he shows up here?”

“He promised not _this_ week.”

“So, no pressure at all for this weekend’s discussions.” Noah chuckles wryly.

“To be fair to him, he also said we don’t need to have it all figured out. Just to… both be happy about whatever we’re doing.”

“Right now I’m happy we’re talking.”

“Yeah, me too. We should… keep on talking.” But then a yawn escapes before I can stifle it, and Noah laughs.

“I’ll take that as my signal to let you get some sleep. Both of you. But we’ll keep talking, soon.”

If this were one of all those goodnight calls years ago, this would be the part when I say “Love you.” But after so long, I’d rather say it in person first. So instead there’s an awkward pause, and then I just wish him good night.

I miss Noah as soon as the phone is down, but by the time I get myself into pajamas and brush my teeth there’s a message waiting. No cartoon dinosaur this time; instead, it’s a picture of us that I recognize instantly. We’re at Lee’s and my twentieth birthday party, the one Noah and I had flown back for from our summer jobs in Boston, and we are curled up asleep on a couch, victims of jet lag. Lee took the picture to make fun of me for falling asleep at my own party, but I’d loved it so much I’d made him send it to me. Apparently Noah kept a copy too.

Suddenly waiting to say it in person just seems like more wasted time. So before I can second guess myself, I call Noah back. He’s laughing as he picks up, then goes silent when I just blurt out “I love you.”  Finally he laughs again. “I knew I’d kept that picture for a reason. I love you too, dork. But let’s talk about that when you’re not four hundred miles away and falling asleep.”

  



	20. Mystery Girl

_**(Noah)** _

Things feel different after our call. I breathe a little easier. We've still got miles to go, but just the fact that Elle has started talking, has volunteered some of the things Lee was so concerned she might never manage to tell me, reassures me. I let myself dwell on the unexpected but welcome postscript to our call, on the determination in Elle's voice when she told me she loved me. I try not to cringe remembering my response, at having frozen and fallen back on humor to cover my shock. Trust Elle to always knock me off balance when I least expect it.

We talk again briefly the next night, and the next. These calls don't get serious, and that's fine. The conversations we need next aren't the kind I want to have on the phone, especially not when Elle will be here, actually here, so soon. Instead we catch up, we trade stories. A few times we even mention the old days without getting dragged down by bitterness. It had been far too long since Elle's voice was the last thing I heard before falling asleep, and I welcome its return.

Lee calls me once, too. He's comically awkward as he attempts to ask how I'm feeling and how I'm processing all of this without passing on any further information from Elle. He's trying really hard to be just my brother when he talks to me and just her friend when he talks to Elle, and I love him for it.

Soon enough the week has passed and it's Friday. There's no team workout this morning, so instead I take a long run to clear my head. Before heading to campus I make sure my apartment is respectably neat, still not quite believing that Elle will be here tonight. A week ago I was packing my bag for the tournament trip and dreading a weekend of constantly looking over my shoulder, fearing Elle might appear. Today I'm constantly looking at my watch, impatient for Elle to arrive.

* * *

My friend and fellow teacher Adam finds me as the recruiting reception winds down.

"A bunch of us are heading out for drinks after. You in?"

"Not tonight. I've got plans."

"Really. You gonna tell me more?" Adam's always trying to set me up with friends of his, to no success of late.

"Nope." I check my phone again, waiting to hear from Elle that her flight has landed.

"And will we see you Saturday for Parker's birthday?"

"Maybe." If Elle wants to meet my friends.

"Or maybe what? You feeling particularly confident about tonight?"

"It's not a first date. Let's leave it at that."

"How about no, let's  _not_  leave it at that. I've been trying to get you back in the game all year, and now you're not going to tell me about your mystery girl?"

"Correct." I smirk at Adam's frustration, and finally my phone buzzes. Elle has not only landed, she's already in an Uber headed to my place, which gives me about thirty minutes to get home. "And that's my signal to get out of here. You want to make a last loop around the room so the dean's happy?"

Adam doesn't drop the topic so easily, though, peppering me with questions about my so-called mystery girl as we make our way out of the reception and back to our cars. Finally I take pity on his curiosity. He's bound to find out soon anyway.

"Look, it's not a mystery girl. I've mentioned Elle, right?"

Adam looks briefly confused, then his eyes widen. "The one from high school? Your brother's friend that crushed your heart? The one we're not supposed to ask about even though she's in like half your college pictures?  _THAT_  Elle?"

For the record, Lee running his mouth when he visited last spring is to blame for most of what Adam knows about Elle, including the phrase "crushed your heart." I would have put it way less melodramatically. Adam hasn't yet heard about October, let alone the current situation. It occurs to me there will be a lot of explanations required if we do make an appearance at that birthday party.

"The one and only."

"Whoa. Well, based on your smile when that message came in, I'm going to assume there've been some developments on that front you've been keeping from me."

"You could say that."

"So I can follow you home now and meet her, right? The legendary Elle Evans?"

"Absolutely not."

"Tomorrow at the party?"

"Told you - maybe."

"You're killing me."

"You'll live. But for now, scram. And try and keep this to yourself for once." Adam's a good friend, but he ranks up there with Lee on the gossip front.

* * *

I barely make it home before Elle arrives. The reception had been formal and I'd been hoping to change into something more comfortable, but I've only managed to ditch my blazer and tie by the time I hear a knock. I open the door and there she is, wearing jeans and a deep blue sweater that drapes not at all subtly around her belly. It's going to take at least another few times before seeing Elle pregnant doesn't leave me speechless. We grin at each other, and then all of a sudden Elle wraps her arms around me and bursts into tears.

"Shell? Is this pregnancy crying or actual crying? Because we've got to stop hanging out in doorways with you sobbing."

She laughs. "Just the hormones this time. I promise. Sometimes it's from being happy. Give me a second. I'll be fine."

As long as she's not actually distraught, I am more than happy to let her cling. "Come on, get inside before my neighbors get concerned. Did you have dinner already? Do you want anything?"

"I did, but I could probably use a snack."

Information I will not be sharing with Elle: the fact that Mickey sent a message this morning warning me that Elle has been extra-weepy lately and that it's usually a sign she's hungry.

Five minutes later Elle looks much calmer as she finishes a yogurt and waits for her tea to cool off. Remind me to thank Mickey for the intel. We're sitting at my kitchen table and I take a minute just to watch Elle and enjoy seeing her here. Until tonight this was the only place I've ever lived with no memories of Elle associated. That was a relief back when things were so bad between us, but I'm glad to change it now.

"You look fancy," she comments, gesturing at my outfit. "I feel underdressed now."

"Had to impress the prospective students and their parents, and then you got here before I could finish changing. But I don't know what you're talking about, because you look amazing."

"Is this from Mickey's secret guide to keeping pregnant Elle happy? Feed me and flatter me?"

I choke on my drink a bit. "She  _told_  you she was sending that? But no, Mickey said nothing about flattery. Which it wasn't. You really do look amazing."

"Oh yeah, Mickey promised no meddling without my knowledge. We had a whole heart to heart about it. It was great."

So that settles that. I have to tell Elle about Lee's visit, and preferably in a way that doesn't leave her furious at both of us.

"I wore this to class this morning, by the way." Elle comments.

"Yeah?" I'm not sure where she's going with this.

"Mickey was right last weekend when she claimed I'd been hiding behind jackets and bulky sweaters. But not this week."

Ah. "So you've told your classmates?"

"More like I let the belly do the telling. Did you know people ask a lot of nosy questions when you suddenly turn up pregnant?"

"I can imagine. Dare I ask what you've been telling them?"

"Vague references to a boyfriend in San Francisco. They don't need the whole story."

"Is that so far off from the truth?"

Elle smiles slightly. "Seems a bit like overstating and understating all at the same time."

I return her smile but keep quiet. As long as Elle's here and not shutting me out, I don't care what label she's using for me, and I'm certainly not going to press her on it. Whatever she wants to tell people that doesn't make her freak out is fine with me. For now.

"Some of them had a lot of other questions, too." She admits.

"Questions like the ones we should start talking about?"

"Pretty much."

"Well, I had a few things I wanted to get out of the way first. Things that aren't up for debate." I give Elle a pointed look.

Elle raises an eyebrow but lets me go on. She may not like these, but they need saying.

"One, money. We always danced around the issue but we need to talk about it this time. You know there's a trust fund. This kid will be a beneficiary when they're old enough. I have access to some of my share already, and the rest this fall. Whatever happens with us, can we please just agree you'll let me contribute without arguing about it every time? It's not about whether you need it or your independence, it's just what's right. We can figure out the details later, I just needed to put this out there."

I'm relieved to see Elle smiling wryly instead of glaring as I'd expected.

"Lee predicted you'd give me this speech."

Probably because Lee and I have each had way too many arguments with Elle about her insistence on always paying her own way. Which is fine when we're talking about dinners or concert tickets, but not here. At some point I'm hoping it will become a moot point, but who knows how long convincing Elle to take that step will take.

"You can relax," Elle continues. "We're not going to argue over it. Your family's ridiculous money is what it is. I'm not going to turn down help to make a point."

"It's not 'help.' It's not something optional I'm doing to be nice. It's my responsibility."

"Yes. Fine. Poor choice of words. But the point is, I'm agreeing with you. So what's next on your list of things you don't want to debate?"

The next one should be laughably obvious, but the last two times I'd mentioned similar intentions didn't turn out so well.

"As much as I hate to bring this up, given our history… I need to know where you plan to live after graduation. So I can also move there." I pause to gauge her reaction before going on.

Elle flushes and looks down at her mug. "You can stop looking at me like that. I'm not going to freak out and run away. I assumed you'd want to be there. And I want you to be. And not just because of the baby.  _I_  want you to be there. So don't worry, I'm not going to argue with you on this one either. But I  _do_ want to talk about… the times I freaked out. I still owe you some explanations."

"Do you want to talk about it now? Because I think there's something I need to tell you first. And maybe we could go sit somewhere more comfortable than this table before we launch into serious discussions."

"Are we done with your list of undebatable points?"

"For now, yes. Wait, one more - we need to agree on a temporary name that isn't Dino."

"Nice try. You hear that, Dino? Your dad's hilarious."

It was worth a shot. And at least she agreed to the important two.

* * *

Elle seems to want to talk about October and the breakup two years ago, and I want to come clean about Lee's visit before she does that. I move us over to the couch and smile when she immediately claims the gray fleece blanket that had been draped across the back of it.

"You still keep your place too cold. And this is mine, by the way." Elle comments. She's mostly right; the blanket's always lived at my place but I did buy it to end her whining about Massachusetts winters.

"Perhaps we can arrange a trade. This blanket for that hoodie you were wearing last weekend."

"Never." Elle laughs, then looks more serious. "I wanted to talk to you about something. That has a lot to do with how I behaved in October. And probably also way back when we broke up."

"Wait, Elle - before you do that, there's something I need to admit. That I don't think you're going to like, but I don't want any secrets between us."

"I don't care who you dated after the breakup." Elle kind of mutters it, not looking at me.

"What? No, that's not it at all. It's something more recent." Elle's eyebrows rise. "Elle! Still not that. Good grief, at some point we need to discuss your assumptions about my social life. Or maybe I'll just introduce you to my friend Adam and he can complain to you about how boring I am. But what I need to tell you has nothing to do with that."

Elle waits for me to go on.

"Lee came to see me. This week. And please don't hate him for this, or me for letting him, but he told me some stuff that probably he was supposed to keep to himself. Only because he thought it might help."

"Lee came to visit? When?"

"He was here by the time I got back on Sunday night."

"So literally immediately after the call when I told him not to meddle, he flew across the country to meddle. I'm going to kill him." Elle's muttering to herself more so than directing her comments to me.

"He said you'd say that. Elle, he meant well. He knew you'd be furious at him if you found out, but he did it anyway because he was so desperate to help."

"So why are you telling me?"

"Because I don't want any secrets. Because I want you to know what we talked about."

"Alright. Tell me." Her voice is tense, but at the same time she scoots closer to me on the couch and rests her head on my shoulder. I take that as an invitation to wrap my arm around her.

I tell her the basics. That Lee wanted me to know she'd been so close to calling, before the news. Wanted me to understand her fear that I would never forgive her for running away. Her fear that I'd reconcile only for the baby, or that I'd think she was doing that. And, finally, Lee's guilt that he never saw her trauma for what it was, and that it was newcomer Mickey, not Elle's oldest and supposedly closest friend, who'd figured it out. And my own guilt at missing it, and at being too hurt and too stubborn to reach out after she left.

Elle stays quiet through it all.

"He did it because he loves us, Elle. He was afraid you wouldn't ever manage to tell me, or that I wouldn't give you the chance to, and he said he'd rather take a chance on you never forgiving him than watch us screw this up if we couldn't manage to be honest."

Elle still doesn't say anything. I wait, holding her just slightly tighter and dropping a kiss on the top of her head. Finally she speaks.

"I am really, really angry at Lee. And also grateful, all at the same time. And glad you told me. But also not sure where I go from here. When you already know some of what I wanted to tell you. But maybe not the way I would have told you."

"So tell me what  _you_ wanted to tell me. The way you wanted to say it. I only know what Lee thinks."

"Except he's cut me off at the pass. All week I've been trying to work out what to tell you, and now Lee's just taken the decision away from me."

Elle's angrier than I anticipated, and I realize it's not just about the confidences broken. It's also about Lee not trusting her to manage this herself. And I can't let all that blame rest on him.

"Elle - you're right to be furious. But don't put it all on Lee. I could have told him to stop, to keep your secrets to himself. And I didn't. Even though I knew you'd hate this. Because I was still so confused and I couldn't say no to any chance of understanding what happened. So don't only blame Lee. I let him do it."

"Yeah, well, you're in luck. I don't feel like being mad at you right now. We have enough else to deal with. And you wanting to understand - I was the one who put you in that position. So I'm not going to hold it against you. But Lee - Lee's going to hear about this one."

"I'm also supposed to tell you he did it for Dino. If that helps. To make us finally get it right for Dino's sake. He's taking this uncle thing  _very_ seriously." I say it with as straight a face as possible, and I can see Elle's lips twitch before she finally gives in and laughs.

"Oh my God, he so is. And did he give you that speech about how he's Team Dino now?"

"Yup." We're both laughing now, and I can see Elle's anger receding. I'm sure she'll still let Lee have it the next time they talk, but at least she and I can move on to our own conversations now.

"So, now you know what Lee told me. Why don't you tell me what  _you_ wanted to tell me?"


	21. Explanations and Ice Cream

_Previously_ : "So, now you know what Lee told me. Why don't you tell me what you wanted to tell me?"

* * *

**_(Elle)_ **

I try to put aside my frustration at Lee and refocus on everything I'd wanted to tell Noah. It had seemed like an overwhelming conversation to initiate when I was thinking about it this week, but now that I'm here, now that Noah has me tucked against him, the words come more easily than I expected. And if I'm honest, knowing that Noah has already heard some of it from Lee, that the broad brushstrokes are already out there, ends up helping. So maybe it won't be all yelling when I call Lee out for his meddling.

I start with October. With the panic that had come over me when our wholly unexpected, thrilling new beginning suddenly started feeling like one more thing that might fall apart and leave me shattered. The panic that Noah was going to to rearrange everything for me and I wouldn't live up to it. The shame about how I could feel so scared when he was so confident. The literal, physical, heart-racing, breath-stealing panic that sent me running.

I tell him about the letters I wrote and never sent those first few weeks. Those attempts to explain that I could never get sounding right because I didn't actually have a good explanation to give. I tell him about the hours I stared at my phone and wondered if maybe I should just call and fake a confident voice and tell him I was ready to talk and ready to try this. Even though I knew I wasn't.

I tell him about finally telling Mickey what had happened. About Mickey's gentle suggestion that my panic might be of broader scope and longer history than just that weekend or just Noah. About the realization that Mickey was right about how hard Dad's accident had hit me and how long I'd failed to deal with those fears and anxieties.

Noah's been trying to interrupt all through my rambling narrative and for the most part I've brushed him off, plowing forward with what I need to say, but he doesn't let me this time.

"I never should have left. After the accident. I should have stayed and seen what was happening to you and not... let all this happen the way it did."

"It wasn't up to you. I was the one telling you to go back. I wish you hadn't left the way you did. Without warning, in the middle of the fight. Before I'd even fully realized we were in a fight. But I don't think it would have gone much differently anyway. I still would have insisted you go back to Harvard. I still wouldn't have let you stay."

"We could have been together even after I'd gone back. Not broken up, I mean. That's another apology I owe you. For making it so all or nothing. For being so angry that you didn't want me to stay that I didn't bother asking how you _did_ want me to help. There's no reason we couldn't have survived being long distance again, at least until I graduated. I don't know why I couldn't see that, then. And maybe then I would have realized what you were going through."

"And I probably still would have pushed you away. We had all those calls after you left, and I escalated the fight as much as you did. I was so angry and scared about Dad and fighting with you was just... a relief. Even if you hadn't started out angry, I would have kept on pushing and pushing at you until you were, until I had someone to vent all my rage at. Not that I realized that's what I was doing, then."

And then I tell Noah about the counselor I've been seeing. About starting to piece together the cumulative effects of losing Mom, of almost losing Dad, of keeping everything together for Brad. About starting to understand and master the fears that had been driving me. About working on facing the idea of making plans for the future without always assuming the worst. And I tell him it's something we'll keep talking about. That it's not something I'm all the way over, but that I'm done denying it.

And then I hesitate, because I've reached the part of the story when I most failed him, but I make myself press forward.

I tell Noah about January, when Mickey made me acknowledge the increasingly obvious and take that pregnancy test. When all the panic came rushing back and I couldn't face calling him for fear of the worst-case scenarios that were crowding out every other thought in my brain. That Noah would never forgive me for October. Worse yet, that Noah would never forgive me for October, but would still try to reconcile, only for the baby. Or that Noah would claim to forgive me and say all the right things and propose and I'd never, ever be sure it wasn't just for the baby. Or that this baby would instead derail any chance of reconciliation. That Noah would never believe I would have reached out without this news. And I really don't have a better explanation for my two months of silence than all those paralyzing fears.

Noah tries to interrupt again, but I shake my head and give him a pleading look as I forge on. The arm he'd wrapped around me earlier has slowly drifted to let his hand curve over my belly and I let the warm weight of that hand remind me that we are here now, together, and that none of those worst cases have come to pass.

I tell him about the month spent barely acknowledging the reality of the pregnancy, and then the month of slowly getting my act together. And all the while Mickey nudging me daily, gently at first and then exasperatedly, to just tell him. Then Dad joining that chorus. And then Lee, just two weeks ago. And obviously I knew they were right. Obviously on a rational level I knew that even if my fears had been reasonable, waiting wasn't going to help anything. But I wasn't acting on a rational level, and so long as I didn't tell Noah I could put off finding out what would happen. Put off the possibility of the worst case scenarios playing out. It's not a good reason. But it's the truth, and so I share it with him.

And now, finally, he knows it all.

There's a long silence. Finally, Noah speaks.

"Lee told me about Christmas. About you braving family dinner even though I was supposed to be there, and planning to talk to me that night. So let's put some of the blame for the delay back where it belongs, on me, for being a coward. Or even earlier, for being so all-or-nothing in October. But even if Lee hadn't told me that, Elle, I'd still never have believed you were only reaching out because of the baby. Maybe the thought went through my mind, briefly, but I never believed it. Because I've known you your entire life and I know you never would, never could. And as for me, I wish I knew how to convince you I'd be desperate to fix this regardless of the baby. I guess my stupid ultimatum is to blame here again, for making you think I never would have reached out. Elle, I don't know how long I would have held out, waiting for you to make the first move. Probably too long. But at some point I'd have seen you again and realized what I realize every time I see you. So maybe the baby changed the timeline, saved us more wasted time. But it didn't change my feelings. And you don't need to believe me today, but I hope you will soon."

We sit in silence for a minute, and finally I reach for his hand and curl mine into it. "I already believe you. For the same reason, because I've known you too long to believe otherwise. I didn't say my fears were rational, or realistic. They just... were."

"Alright, I think we're done." Noah says it softly but decisively after another few quiet moments.

"Done?" I lift myself from his side as I say it, turning to face him.

"Stop! Not like that." Noah must have seen the confusion flash through my eyes at his pronouncement, and he reaches to wrap my hand back in his. "I meant I think we're done having this conversation. Rehashing these fights. What-iffing ourselves crazy. We needed to talk about it, and now we have, and I'm glad we understand what happened better. And we'll come back to it, if we need to. But I think it's enough for now. We're never going to change what happened, no matter how many times we apologize for every misstep and wrong turn. And we're just going to have to be okay with that, and move on to what we're doing now... if you agree."

Noah smiles tentatively at me, watching my reaction, and I'm reminded exactly how much potential there is in _what we're doing now_. That our situation is far from being an unfortunate outcome that we're trying to make the best of.

"Yeah. I think I do agree." My smile grows as I say it, and I watch Noah's smile broaden too.

"So what _do_ we want to do now?"

I pale slightly at Noah's question, and he laughs softly. "Relax, Elle. I didn't mean let's jump into figuring out our whole future, right now. I meant what are we doing now, _tonight_. It's been a very, very long time since I've gotten to spend a Friday night with you. We should take a break from all this talking and... go do something."

Just like that, his grin and playful tone transform the mood.

"Are you asking me out on a date, Noah Flynn?" I tease him.

"Why, is it too soon? Should I wait another six years? I wouldn't want to rush anything." It's that quirk of his lips and that twinkle in his eye and there is no way he doesn't know exactly what they do to me.

"And just what did you have in mind?"

"We've both had dinner, and it's late enough that a movie would conflict with your newfound love of early bedtimes that I will absolutely not be making fun of. But you did say you wanted to see the school, so - how about a tour?"

"A tour... in the dark? Do you not understand how tours work?"

He rolls his eyes at me. "It's a nice night with a nearly full moon, it's a pretty campus, and most of the buildings will be lit. I was suggesting a romantic walk, you goof. Would it help if I mentioned there's an ice cream shop right next to campus?"

"See, you should have led with that ice cream part. Now I'm sold."

* * *

 

I spend the short drive to campus trying to make myself stop thinking of everything in terms of the past. That the last time we drove together was this, or the last time we got ice cream together was that. We've agreed to let the past be the past and move on, but it's going to take some practice. Then I'm distracted by a question that I'm not sure how to bring up.

"Are we going to run into people you know, walking around campus?"

"This late on a Friday? Probably not. But maybe. Why?"

"Just wondering if this could get awkward. Does anyone know yet? About me and the pregnancy?"

"No, but they will soon. So if we do see anyone, I guess that'll just accelerate the process."

I don't know why the prospect of sharing the news still makes me so nervous. These wouldn't even be people I know, tonight, and I survived telling several dozen classmates this week. But this would be the first time with Noah, and maybe I'm nervous wondering what he would say. How he'd describe the news. And yet he seems entirely relaxed about the prospect, and probably I should learn to let his confidence carry me.

As it turns out, I needn't have worried - Noah was right that campus would be nearly deserted. The closest we come to having to discuss the pregnancy with anyone else is when the scooper at the ice cream shop tells me the cookie crumbles on top of my cone are on the house, "for the baby."

Noah was also right about the romance of a moonlit walk. His hand has settled at the small of my back, navigating us around the winding paths, and I smile to myself at the idea of our being on a simple ice cream date after all of our history.

It's quickly become apparent that Noah knows absolutely nothing about the actual history of the school - "I was hired to teach math and coach football, not lead campus tours, Shelly," he chuckles - so instead we make up stories about each of the buildings and their namesakes as we go along, struggling to contain our laughter as the stories get more ridiculous. We finally end up by the football field and sit in the bleachers while Noah tells me about the past season. I'll admit I tune out slightly, distracted by the warmth of Noah's arm around me and memories of watching him play football.

"So I guess the coaching staff don't wear uniforms, do they?" I suddenly interrupt.

Noah looks at me in confusion. "We have team jackets, if that's what you're asking."

"But not football uniforms? Pity."

Noah catches my smirk and shakes his head in mock dismay. "So you've lost interest now that I'm out of uniform?"

"In football? Kinda. But you, I'll keep around."

"Is that so?"

"I mean, that grown-up prep school look you've got going today, that works too."

"So you really are with me only for my clothes?"

"No, you'd still be tolerable without the clothes."

I realize how it sounds the instant I've said it, and I bury my face in my hands laughing.

"Tolerable, huh? I think I can safely say I feel the same about you. You're very... tolerable, with or without clothes."

We are both laughing almost to the point of tears now, collapsed against each other, and I suspect most of it isn't the unintentional innuendo, it's the relief of having something silly to laugh about after so many heavy conversations.

I'm still laughing as Noah finally kisses me, the arm around my back pulling me in closer and his other hand lifting my face to his. It's nothing like the shy kiss we'd shared last week, and as it heats up I'm rapidly reconsidering my intentions not to rush anything this weekend. Until the wolfwhistling and cheers startle us apart.

And that's when we spot them, three teens tossing a football down the field, previously hidden by the shadows.

Noah is laughing hard once again, his arm still looped around me, and he gives the teens a sarcastic wave before turning back to face me.

"Well, my reputation's about to improve."

"Those are your students?" They're fleeing now, and at least they can't see me blushing in this dim light.

"Yep. Two are on the team, and I'll be seeing all three of them Monday in class."

"Yikes. Sorry."

"No, no apologies. Are you kidding? Getting caught making out on campus in the dark? Now I have a mysterious secret life for them to gossip about."

"Do you think they noticed the belly?"

"From that distance, when you're sitting? I highly doubt it. But so what if they did?"

"Might not help your reputation as much."

"Elle, why are you so concerned about people finding out? Unless you're planning to move to San Francisco, which I doubt, at some point soon I'm going to resign for next year, and I wasn't planning to hide the reason. I'm certainly not embarrassed about it, if that's what you're thinking."

"I didn't mean it that way. Although I'm glad to hear that. I just meant - to high school boys, I'm pretty sure this situation right here is more nightmare than aspirational."

"Ah, you might be right on that one. If you want to come visit class sometime, we could scare them straight that nothing's quite foolproof. Maybe while we're studying stats."

I chuckle, but we're flying close to sensitive topics now, and Noah notices the shift in my expression.

"Elle - you know I'm happy about this, right? That this isn't a nightmare situation to me? Not even remotely. Incredibly unexpected, but the exact opposite of a nightmare."

And I'd kind of gathered as much circumstantially, from the warmth in his voice and the emotion in his eyes when the baby is mentioned and the protective reverence with which his hands keep drifting to cradle my belly, but it really doesn't hurt to finally hear it said. And then I realize I've also never said it plainly.

"I think maybe I've forgotten to say that, too. That I don't think this is a nightmare. That this has the potential to be - amazing. Although, if we're being completely honest - it was this week I finally let myself admit that. Once I saw we - had a chance. More than a chance. And I realize it's my fault it took so long to get us to this point." The tears are back. I'm surprised I've made it so much of this evening without them.

Noah doesn't reply, he just stands and holds his hand out to me to join him.

"Come on, Elle. It's late. I think we've talked enough for tonight. More than enough. Let's get home."


	22. Arrangements and Schemes

_**(Elle)** _

We're both quiet on the drive back from campus, and I remember we haven't yet addressed sleeping arrangements. As thrilling as our earlier kiss was, not rushing still seems like the wiser option.

"So, try not to take this the wrong way, because I assure you it's… the opposite, but I'm going to sleep on the couch tonight. We've got a lot more we need to figure out before we start getting distracted." I tell Noah.

"Not a chance."

"Uh, pretty sure that's not your call to make."

"I don't mean your plan to keep this sleepover G-rated. Which, for the record, I agree is the more reasonable option. The much less appealing, but probably more reasonable, option. But there's a zero percent chance of you sleeping on the couch. I get the couch."

"That couch is me sized. It is not remotely  _you_  sized."

"And you're pregnant, so end of discussion. And do you think I've never fallen asleep on my couch? I'll be fine."

"You're being ridiculous."

"No, I'm just heeding the voice in my head saying that if I let a pregnant you sleep on the couch while I get the bed, somehow, someday, my mother will find out and kill me. Which reminds me, when are we telling her?"

"Don't try to distract me with your mom." Though he does have a point. June would never let him hear the end of this. "And the only way she'd ever find out is if I told her, so how about I promise not to?"

"Nope. You still get the bed."

We pause the debate at its current standoff as we arrive back at the apartment. By the time I return from brushing my teeth and changing into pajamas, Noah has also changed and is sprawled on the couch, tapping away at his phone. The couch that really is too short for him to comfortably sleep on, no matter what he claims. I sit down next to him.

"Lee is very concerned he hasn't heard from you yet." Noah comments without looking up from his phone.

"Yes, I know, he's sent me like ten messages. I haven't yet decided whether to kill him or just yell at him for his little intervention, so you can tell him he can wait."

"I'm not passing messages to Lee for you. I am merely informing you that he's escalated to bugging me about it now."

"I'd say poor Lee, facing the nightmare of  _us_ again, but I don't actually feel guilty about this." I grin at Noah, who returns the smile.

"Me neither. But I also don't think Lee's actually upset. Well, he's upset about how we've behaved this year. But I'm pretty sure he's rooting for us this time." Noah says.

"I know. He's told me. Fine, I'll stop torturing him."

I reply to the most recent of Lee's increasingly agitated messages.  _You've got to chill. Things are good. We're talking. And tomorrow you and I will have words about your secret trip to SF. Now stop pestering._

"There, done."

I put my phone down and curl up against Noah. He's still reading something on his phone, but his free arm wraps around me and his hand comes to rest over my belly, as it now seems to do every time I'm within reach. We haven't talked much tonight about our impending arrival, but maybe it makes sense that we're focusing on getting us straightened out first. Dino's kicking up a storm, and I see Noah smile as he notices.

"Am I crazy, or is the kicking a lot harder than last week?"

"It's the ice cream hitting him. Or her. Right on time to keep me from falling asleep."

"Sorry. But you were the one that insisted on that double scoop and toppings."

"No, that was Dino talking. It's a whole mind-control thing fetuses do."

"And was I supposed to be the voice of reason? Telling you to have less ice cream? Because I can see that conversation going very poorly for me."

But ice cream isn't what I want to discuss right now.

"Are we just being ridiculous about sleeping arrangements?"

I see the corner of Noah's mouth lift and I'm pretty sure I know his opinion. "I think we're being reasonable about taking things slow and not getting distracted," he concedes. "I'm not sure it's reasonable to believe that where we sleep is the controlling factor. But since you don't seem to trust yourself to keep from ravishing me if we share a bed, I will reluctantly agree to your plan."

"Oh, so  _I'm_  the one with the roving hands we need to worry about?"

"You're the one who thinks our sleeping arrangements will make the difference. I would point to the fact that we have managed to restrain ourselves thus far as evidence that no one needs to sleep on the couch."

" _Have_  we managed to restrain ourselves? I recall we scandalized a few of your students."

"Please don't make me describe the various thoughts I've had that we have not acted on. It would almost certainly be counterproductive."

"Alright, you win. No one is sleeping on the couch. I will keep my allegedly roving hands to myself, and you will keep your imaginative thoughts to yourself. Everyone will remain clothed."

"For now."

"Yes. I hoped the temporariness of this agreement was implicit."

* * *

_**(Noah)** _

I wake at dawn despite having turned off my alarm; the habit is ingrained. But I have no practice to get to this morning and my usual Saturday morning run holds no appeal compared to staying right where I am, so I spend the next hour watching Elle sleep and trying to imagine the next few months. April just started, and I'll need to be here until classes end in early June. Lee graduates around then, too, and I wonder whether Elle will still be able to travel by then, whether the three of us could have one last Boston hurrah. Then Elle's UCLA graduation in mid-June, or so my online research tells me, which will leave a month until Dino shows up. And somewhere in there, I need to find a job and a place to live in LA. July seemed like a long way off when Elle first told me the due date, but now I realize how quickly everything is going to happen.

I make myself get up once Elle starts to stir. I don't disagree that we're better off taking things slow, but if that's the plan I'm going to need to minimize the amount of time spent sharing a bed while both awake. Last night I used a mountain of overdue grading as my excuse for staying in the living room until I was sure Elle was sound asleep. We'll see what excuse I come up with tonight. Or if I still need one.

We go out to breakfast and everything is an odd mix of familiar and new. Elle greets the arrival of her coffee as avidly as she ever did, but then she turns down a refill, sheepishly admitting she's cut back. We trade stories about the past year, but hers are mostly about friends I've never met, and vice versa. And then of course there's the time spent talking about the pregnancy, which definitely falls on the unfamiliar side of things. Half of what she's telling me is going straight over my head, but at least the conclusion seems to be that everything is going well.

I'm in the middle of telling Elle some story about work when her expression suddenly shifts from entertained to a little sad.

"Hey - what's wrong?"

"You said something last night… that you'd be resigning soon. Why?"

"Your Dad and Brad are in LA. Not to mention my parents. I just figured you'd want to be near family once the baby's born."

"Yeah. I mean, that had been my plan, especially when I wasn't sure what  _we_  would be doing."

"So… that's why I said that. Because if you're staying in LA, then I'm moving to LA. Which means I'm resigning." I thought we'd established that yesterday, and I really hope Elle isn't suddenly getting spooked.

"But that was my plan before seeing how happy you are here. And you have all these friends, and a job. I don't want you to give that up. And being near my dad seems less important than being near you. We should at least… talk about me moving here."

"I have friends in LA, too. And I hadn't been planning to teach forever; it's about time I figured out what's next. Besides, my mom would kill me if I caused you and her grandchild to move that far from her."

"Are you going to use your mom to win every argument? I can't sleep on the couch because your mom will kill you, I can't move here because your mom will kill you?"

"Only so long as it keeps working." I grin at her, and she knows it's true. "Speaking of… "

"Yes. I know. We have to tell your parents. Maybe - the next time you visit? It seems like in-person kind of news."

"Sure. Or you could just go over there. No need to wait for me." I smile innocently at her.

"Uh, no. You're not dodging this one."

"I wouldn't actually want to. But yeah, I should fly down again very soon. Unless you want to just… call them right now, with me? Start their day with some exciting news?"

Elle pales adorably. "Maybe let's at least finish the discussion of where we're living, first?"

"I was kidding. And anyway, that discussion's done. We'll be in LA."

"Fine. If you're sure. But I'd still like to meet these friends I'm hearing about. Before they start hating me for causing you to leave."

"They're not going to hate you. And you know, if you want to meet my friends - there's a birthday party tonight. We could go and you'd meet pretty much my whole school crowd in one go."

"Do they even know I exist? Much less the... rest of the story?"

"They know there was a girl I spent most of college dating and that the breakup was - unpleasant. And they've seen pictures from back then. But I haven't told anyone the more recent history."

"So… we'll have a lot of explaining to do when we—and by 'we,' I mean you, me, and this increasingly obvious baby situation—show up at that party, is what you're saying."

"Yeah, probably." I chuckle.

"Maybe we could write the basics on a flyer and hand out copies. Just so we don't have to repeat the story all night."

"I might have an easier way. My friend Adam loves nothing more than having gossip to share. And he already knows you're here, and is dying to know more. If you don't mind getting Adam involved, he can have the entire party informed of whatever you want before we show up."

"Am I going to like Adam, or is this one of your meathead jock friends?"

"You'll like him. Lee likes him."

Elle smiles. "Lee and I aren't the same person. We disagree on a lot of things."

"And thank God for that, or  _this_  would be way weirder. But you do usually agree when it comes to liking or hating my friends."

"True. Then I like this plan. Although… what exactly  _would_ we want Adam to tell people?"

"Whatever you want. That we dated in college, that we reconnected, and that we're now, ah, surprised but happy. They don't need to know we fought, or when I found out, or that we're still figuring out the details."

"Fine. But based on my recent experience, there are going to be more questions after that. About our plans. What are we telling them then?"

"You tell me." No, really, Elle. You tell me. I know what our plans would be if they were up to me alone, but I also know better than to rush her on any decisions. "But I could tell Adam that's a sore subject and to warn people not to ask."

Elle buries her face in her hands. "Argh. This is starting to sound complicated and stressful."

I shrug. "Then we don't go. My friends are going to find out eventually, but I can be the one to tell them, without dragging you to this party."

"But I want to go. I want to meet them. They're your friends. I want to know what you've been up to all this time." She sounds so earnest and determined.

"It won't be so bad. I'll use my best threatening glare if anyone asks too many questions."

"You do have an excellent threatening glare."

"So I should call Adam and rope him into this scheme?"

"Yeah. Do you think he'd want to come over first? So I could actually meet him?"

"He tried to invite himself over as soon as he heard you were visiting. He'll be there five minutes after he finds out he's welcome."

"Are we telling him the whole truth?"

"Whatever you want. You can trust Adam. He likes to gossip, but he knows when to shut up. And he knows me well enough that I'm not sure he'd believe we were actually together most of this year. But if he says he knew it was going on, the others will likely buy it."

"Okay. I at least want to meet this Adam, and then we'll decide if we're going to the party."

Elle and I wrap up breakfast and head back to my place after a driving tour of my neighborhood. She tells me she'd like to call Lee, and I figure that's my cue to disappear, so I finally go on that run I'd put off this morning. By the time I've returned and showered she's off the phone and, as curious as I am about how  _that_  conversation went, I figure I'm better off staying out of it. But Elle is in a good mood, so it can't have been terrible. After checking that she's still on board with inviting Adam over, I reach for my phone.

_Might make it to Parker's birthday after all, but I need a favor first._

_Only if you tell me how your date with the heartcrusher went._

_Deal, because that's what the favor involves. And don't call her that._

I chuckle when my phone rings almost instantly. Adam really can't resist the siren song of gossip.

"You have my attention. Go on."

"It's about Elle. We're probably going to drop by the birthday, but we need your help with something."

"Stop. First I need to know what's going on. That was the deal."

"You want me to tell you, or you want to come over and let her tell you?"

"She's still there? And you're actually going to let me meet her?"

"So that's a yes on coming over?"

"Dude, I'm already out the door. I'll be there in five."

I go wait for Adam at the entrance to my building. I told Elle I needed to check my mail, but really I want to make a few things clear to Adam in private.

"You look nervous. This story is getting better and better." Adam laughs as he sees me.

"You have no idea. But before you meet Elle, I need you to understand one thing. I've been in love with her for six years, we might finally be back on track, and if you screw this up for me in any way I will kill you with my bare hands. Got that?"

Adam is staring at me wide-eyed but I press on as we walk up to my floor.

"Specifically, there will be no questions about whether I'm moving in with her, and there will be absolutely no mention of marriage. Because those topics tend to make her panic and flee, and I really need her to not do that right now."

"Why would I even mention - " Adam stops mid-sentence as he catches the hard stare I'm giving him. "Oh.  _Oh_. Holy shit. Wait, hold up, I need a minute."

Adam pauses halfway up the flight of stairs and sits down on a step. I roll my eyes at his dramatics but join him.

"So she's - "

"Yeah."

"Whoa. Okay. So that's… wow. And you're… happy about this, right?"

"The specific circumstances are complicated. But overall, yeah. Like I said, six years. And the whole reason you're here is so we can tell you, so I'll let Elle share the details she wants, but I just needed to make sure you weren't going to step in it and freak her out."

"Holy shit."

"You said that already."

"Yeah, well, it bears repeating. And all this has been going on without you saying a word?"

"Like I said, I'll let Elle share the details. Come on, she's going to wonder if we got lost." I start back up the stairs, followed by Adam.

Elle is making tea when we walk in, and I'm amused at how quickly she's made herself at home in my apartment. Adam makes a beeline for her before I can say anything.

"The legendary Elle Evans, I presume?"

Elle startles a bit, then laughs nervously. "Whatever you've heard, it's all lies," she jokes.

"No, what I just heard clearly wasn't a lie." Adam is staring at Elle, whose snug tee shirt makes our situation clear. "I'm Adam Rice, and I hear you have some stories for me. Come, sit. Flynn can finish making your tea. Did no one tell him he's supposed to be at your beck and call now? Flynn, for shame. We're going to need to discuss your new responsibilities."

"I'm seriously regretting letting you come over."

"I'm not. You were right, I  _am_  going to like Adam. Can you make sure to add some milk to my tea when it's ready? And if you could make me some toast, too, that would be great. With peanut butter." Elle sweeps past me with a smirk and follows Adam to the couch.

"Ah, peanut butter toast. A classic. That's my oldest sister's favorite when she's pregnant. So you're done with the nausea and on to the constant hunger phase, I see?"

I remember slightly belatedly that Adam has three older sisters with an army of kids between them. Was I supposed to need to tell him that he's here to help me, not to try and charm Elle?

Elle is smiling at him, of course. "Pretty much. I think I've polished off five jars of peanut butter this month. You sound like you're familiar."

"Three older sisters, eight nieces and nephews. I've heard way more about pregnancy than I ever wanted, trust me. So judging from this - " Adam waves in the direction of Elle's bump, "I'm going to guess that Flynn's been keeping secrets for quite a while."

I keep quiet, but I'm curious to hear what Elle decides to share. Except it's to me she directs her next comment.

"Noah, are you seriously still making people call you Flynn?"

I roll my eyes at Elle. "Yes,  _Shelly_. How dare I have nickname preferences."

"That's different."

"It most certainly is not,  _Shelly_."

Adam is grinning at us and I can't keep a straight face either.

"In Flynn's defense, most of us go by our last names at work. But I would be more than happy to call him Noah for you."

"Please, do."

"If you two are done mocking, can we go back to discussing why we brought you over?"

"Let me guess. You need me to discreetly spread your happy news so no one has a heart attack when you show up tonight with your exceedingly lovely and very pregnant girlfriend no one knew existed?"

Adam is obnoxious, but also very smart.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Give me an hour after the party starts before you show up and I'll have everyone updated. But what exactly am I telling them?"

"You said your friends know who I am, right? That we dated before and broke up?" Elle asks me.

"Yeah. Not… October. But most of them know about before."

Of course Adam has to jump in with more. "I told you, you're the legendary Elle Evans. The one we see in all his old pictures but know better than to ask about."

"So tell them we reconnected last year. Over the summer. And I asked Noah not to tell anyone, in case it blew up again. So you can blame it on me that they hadn't heard anything about this. But now that it's working out and we're having this baby, obviously it's time to tell people."

I know she's just talking about what she wants my friends to believe, but hearing Elle say our relationship is working out makes my heart soar.

"Got it. Is it okay if I say I knew about it before today?"

"Yeah, that's probably better. It will be more believable if  _someone_  knew about it."

"Oh, don't worry. The idea that the great wall of stoic silence over here has been carrying on a secret romance without ever dropping any hints isn't going to be hard to sell. And it will explain his recent indifference to the women we've thrown at him."

"So, do you want the real story?" Elle asks.

I'm a little surprised Elle is offering. But Adam does seem to have charmed her.

"Uh,  _desperately_. If you're willing to tell and Flynn—sorry,  _Noah_ —isn't going to glare at me for asking."

They both look at me for a response.

"You can tell him." Maybe now I can have someone other than Lee to talk to.

"It was only at the end of October that we reconnected. Which is also when  _this_  happened. But then I… freaked out and ran off and we didn't talk for a while. A long while. And it took me ridiculously long to realize I was pregnant, and then even longer to face up to telling Noah. So he hasn't actually been keeping this from you long. Just this week."

"You found out  _this week_?"

"Elle's summary is overly generous to me and unfair to her, but we can talk about that some other time. But that was the timeline, yeah."

"Wow. I mean, congratulations, but also, wow."

"Thanks. And thanks for the help tonight."

"Oh no, thank  _you_. Because this party is going to be  _awesome_  now."


	23. Elle, Meet Everyone

_**(Elle)** _

After finding out the timeline, Adam doesn't ask much more about what happened this year. Maybe he senses how raw it still is, and how awkward it would be to have us jointly tell a story we've only just started talking to each other about. He also asks absolutely nothing about our plans, and his avoidance of even seemingly obvious questions makes me wonder if Noah warned him off. Instead, we end up talking about how the pregnancy is going, about the classes I've got to finish before graduation, about what UCLA has been like. We don't only talk about me; I also get Adam and Noah to tell me about their first year teaching, about trips their gang of friends has taken, all sorts of little details that start to fill in those two blank years in my understanding of Noah.

At some point I realize we've moved on to talking about my time in Boston, and that Noah and I are finishing each other's sentences as we tell Adam stories, playfully squabbling over details. It had been a long time since I'd let myself enjoy those memories, and to be doing it with Noah, for the two of us to be laughing and sharing these stories, quietly thrills me. At some point Noah has reached for my hand, interlacing our fingers, and I suspect he is equally affected by the memories. It's ridiculous how intimate it feels to be holding hands in front of someone else, but, after all this time and separation, it just does. I don't know what Adam knows about the breakup or why I transferred to UCLA. He's not going anywhere near the topic, which makes me think he at least knows it's sensitive, and I'm grateful to him for that.

We hang out long enough that Noah eventually offers to make lunch, leaving Adam and I to keep chatting while Noah assembles sandwiches in the kitchen.

"I'm not going to ask what exactly went wrong in October, but knowing something happened explains a lot." Adam's voice has suddenly quieted. "It must have been that long weekend we had at the end of October, right? Noah didn't say anything, but we all knew something was up. He was all… doom and gloom and angry for a long time afterward."

I nod, and Adam goes on. "But this week—it was like watching him wake up. Not that he said anything, of course. I'm discovering exactly how damn good at not saying anything he can be. But I swear every day this week he got a little happier. And yesterday when he said he had plans, I figured that was why, he'd met some girl, finally gotten over whatever it was. I just didn't imagine - all this."

"Didn't imagine he'd gone and gotten himself in trouble?"

"Are you kidding? You think that's what he thinks this is?"

I shake my head. "No, not really. I'm realizing it's not."

"I mean, I'm not going to speak for Noah, but a lot of things this week and this winter and, hell, the whole time I've known him, have started making a lot more sense, seeing you two together."

I'm not sure how to respond. It's thrilling, hearing Adam's take on Noah and on us, but it's also terrifying. Our disasters crushed him as much as they did me and I can't even contemplate a repeat. There's no room for error, now.

* * *

After Adam finally leaves, Noah and I spend the afternoon playing tourist, going downtown and taking the ferry just to enjoy the views. A sweet older woman offers to take our picture when she sees us trying to get a selfie, and I love the picture so much I immediately send it to Mickey, figuring it's all the update she needs. We avoid serious discussions for the most part, instead just enjoying the time together, but at some point on the open deck of the ferry, staring out at the water, something jogs my memory, and I start talking about two years ago. About running around taking care of Dad and taking care of Brad and never letting myself stop and think about anything else. We don't rehash why I was on my own, I just want Noah to know about that part of my life. To fill in the blanks of those years.

Later, over dinner, Noah gives me a rundown on the friends likely to be at tonight's party—mostly fellow teachers, plus an assortment of their girlfriends and boyfriends and roommates—while I do my best to remember all the names he's throwing at me. Meeting everyone all at once had seemed like the easiest option earlier, but I'll admit I'm getting nervous now.

Adam texts Noah right as we're finishing dessert, letting him know that he's made the rounds at the party and spread our news and that "everyone is eager to meet the heartcrusher." Noah tries to keep me from seeing that last message, but I snatch his phone away to make sure I read it right before giving him a disbelieving look.

"Yeah, that one you're going to have to blame Lee for. I had nothing to do with it."

"Lee?"

"One of the times Lee visited, a while ago, some friends grilled him for the story on you. And you shouldn't be the one getting mad here, because you can guess who came out sounding better in Lee's version of our history."

"Lee called me a  _heart crusher_  and you think  _I_ came out sounding better?"

"Lee didn't call you that. Lee described  _me_  as having gotten my heart crushed. And then my friends improvised from there."

"Is that really what they think of me? That I'm this horrible heart-crushing person?"

"Elle, no. I'm sorry, I should have realized how bad it sounds out of context. And trust me, I don't like them saying it either. They don't actually know much about you, or our history. They noticed you in my old pictures, and I guess I wasn't forthcoming enough with details when they asked, so when Lee visited they tried to get the story from him. And his version was basically that I'm an idiot who never deserved you, and that it was my own damn fault if I'd rather, quote,  _mope around with a crushed heart_  than admit I missed you. Which was - painfully accurate. So it's me they're making fun of when they say 'heartcrusher,' not you."

It's still not funny, but a little voice inside my head reminds me that I haven't always told the most unbiased versions of our history to my UCLA friends, either, and that there was a time before this fall when Mickey referred to Noah as "that runaway jackass."

"Could we maybe add to Adam's assignment for tonight? To tell people no more 'heartcrusher'?"

"I thought I'd already told him that this morning, but I'll make it crystal clear now."

I watch Noah reply to Adam. I don't read the messages, but they seem to involve a lot of allcaps.

"Done. Ready to head to the party?"

Ready to face a room full of strangers who apparently know me only as a notorious heartcrusher but have just been told I'm Noah's secret knocked-up girlfriend? And I can't even have a drink at this party? Yeah, totally ready.

* * *

Of course, it doesn't turn out nearly as scary as I'd imagined. These are Noah's friends, after all, and despite my fondness for describing some of his crowd as meathead jocks, he doesn't actually associate with jerks. Yeah, there's a long uncomfortable moment right after we walk in, when every pair of eyes in the room is on us. Or, more specifically, on me and my midsection. That's what's been so hard to get used to, this week without the giant concealing jackets: having everyone gawk and instantly start making assumptions. But here they also see Noah's arm wrapped around me and the reassuring kiss he drops on the top of my head, and I don't need to look up at his face to know he's staring them all down. And thanks to Adam, it's not shock I see in all those eyes fixed on us, just a mix of amusement and curiosity. Amusement and curiosity and quite a few warm smiles.

Finally, I take a deep breath and break the tension with a wave. "Hi. I'm Elle the heartcrusher. But you can update that to 'baby mama' now."

Across the room I see Adam spit out his drink and I resolutely walk over to him with Noah trailing behind me, laughing. See? Never let a crowd of strangers know you're nervous. Get out ahead of the story and own it.

"I'm not sure why you guys thought you needed my help with this. Clearly Elle could have handled this all on her own." Adam greets us.

"Nah. You warmed up the crowd for me, so thanks. And now I could really use a drink, even if I have to settle for soda."

* * *

_**(Noah)** _

You learn a lot about your friends from their reaction to news like this. There are one or two determined to find out how and why exactly I've kept this under wraps for so long, fishing for more of the story than we care to share. A few with a terrified look in their eyes at the mere idea of a baby, who manage to put "yikes" in the same sentence as "congratulations." And then the ones making unsubtle references to expecting an invitation soon or jokingly asking if Elle's dad has paid me a visit yet. I manage to quash those lines of questioning with a glare, but I can see Elle's smile get tighter and more forced every time it comes up. But Adam has done his job well - beyond those few annoying interactions, we are warmly welcomed and I watch Elle relax and charm one after another of my friends.

The novelty of our arrival wears off after a while and now Elle and Adam and I are just hanging out. She and he are busy figuring out whether she knows any of his friends at UCLA, and I leave them to that discussion while I go refill our drinks. I'm digging through the cooler when I hear a familiar voice call my name.

"Noah?"

This evening is about to get a little more awkward.

"Megan - hey. It's been a while."

Megan Taylor.  _That_  Megan, the one I met soon after moving to San Francisco. The one I dated for most of that summer and fall and thought things were going swimmingly with, until she told me she loved me and I realized I didn't feel the same. I liked her, sure. But the minute she used that word all I could think about was Elle and how much I'd loved her, and how far my feelings for Megan were from that. I took that as a sign I shouldn't be dating Megan. Don't get me wrong, Megan was great and we had fun. She just wasn't Elle. It wasn't the worst breakup, all things considered, and she's still friends with some of my friends, so we run into each other occasionally.

I'm guessing Megan just got to the party, or Adam would have warned me she's here, which means that she probably hasn't heard the news yet. We exchange small talk about what we've been up to lately, and then I see her look past me into the living room.

"Who's Adam's date? And since when does Adam date girls?"

I look back and, sure enough, she's looking straight at Adam and Elle. They do look quite cozy as they chat ensconced at one end of a couch, and I'd be more concerned by how thoroughly Adam has charmed Elle if not for what Megan just alluded to. Megan's stare doesn't go unnoticed by Adam, who does a discreet double-take at the sight of her, but not discreet enough to avoid Elle's notice. So now they're both staring at us. Great. I'm relieved to see Adam grin and say something to Elle, who arches an eyebrow at me before turning back to her conversation with Adam.

"That's Elle. And she's not Adam's date."

"Mmmhmm, I was gathering that from that look she just shot you."

I can't help a sheepish smile as I quickly try to remember whether Megan would have reason to recognize Elle's name. It's not like I'd been specific when we broke up. "I just don't see this working out" is easier to say than "I just realized I'm not remotely over my ex."

"Wait - Elle? Lee's friend that you dated in college?"

So that answers that. And it's perhaps ironic that after all the frustrations caused by our triangle, the years of sometimes wishing we could just be Elle-and-Noah without our third wheel Lee, I defaulted to referring to Elle as "Lee's friend" after our breakup, when I needed to make her sound less important to me.

"That's the one."

"Interesting."

Megan is clearly waiting to see if I'll say more, and I should probably tell her the rest before she hears the news from someone else. It's not like I'm worried about hurting her feelings, she moved on long ago, it's just… awkward.

"We, ah, got back together. And before you hear this from anyone else, since it's been somewhat of a hot topic tonight… Elle's pregnant."

Megan chokes on her drink, coughing hard to recover. Adam and Elle have clearly been keeping tabs on our conversation, because I see both of them trying not to laugh at Megan's reaction. Glad they're enjoying this.

Megan gives me a long appraising look once she's recovered. "So she was why, right?"

"No - I swear, I hadn't seen Elle for ages when you and I were dating, or long after we broke up."

"Oh, I didn't mean it that way. But you aren't nearly as hard to read as you like to think you are, Noah. I figured there was a reason you looked so spooked when I said I loved you. And now it makes sense. I'm glad you guys worked things out."

"Yeah, I'm pretty glad too." I admit with a smile. "And thanks for being... cool about this."

"Are you kidding? This takes away any last scrap of regret about the breakup. No one wants to compete with someone's first love they never got over. And if you guys have figured it out now… even better."

"I should probably get back over there. You want to, ah, come say hi and meet Elle?"

Megan laughs. "Maybe after you've filled her in and told her she doesn't need to keep glaring at me like that. But it was nice seeing you. And… congratulations."

Megan wanders over to another group of friends and I make my way back to Elle and Adam, who stands to let me have his spot on the couch next to Elle.

"So it looks like I don't need to spread the news to Megan?"

"No, she's… up to date now." I tell Adam before turning to Elle. "And I'm guessing Adam's filled you in on who that was?"

"Oh yeah. And then went to great lengths to tell me exactly how long ago it was, and that  _you_  initiated the breakup, and that I didn't need to be staring daggers at her because she's not at all pining or psycho. Do you  _pay_  Adam to be your agent?" Elle smiles.

"Elle's right. I need a raise. Maybe naming rights?" Adam suggests.

"Naming rights… for the baby?"

"Yeah. I promise not to pick anything too weird or trendy. Something classic. Like… Adam."

"You'll have to get in line behind Lee. Actually, don't. The only people naming this baby will be Elle and I."

"Wait, when did I give you a vote? You've really hurt Dino's feelings making fun of its name, so I think you've waived future naming rights." Elle laughs.

* * *

Nate Parker, the birthday boy, was a chemistry major in college, and after Elle finds this out they end up locked in a long conversation about research and whether to go to grad school, leaving Adam and I to talk.

"Thanks for breaking the ice for us tonight. Elle was nervous about meeting everyone, but I think she's having a great time now."

"No thanks needed, man. It was worth it just for the looks on everyone's faces when I told them you'd be showing up with your secret girlfriend carrying your secret baby and that they needed to act super casual about it. And then when I told them the girl in question was the legendary Elle... Everyone's very impressed with your ability to keep this under wraps for so long."

"You know, we did once secretly date right under everyone's noses for months, in high school. Elle didn't want Lee to find out… which didn't turn out well, but that's a different story."

"At some point I'm going to need to hear your version of what happened with Elle. Before this year, I mean. And then this year, too. This year sounds like quite the story."

"Yeah. Maybe let me finish figuring out how this year turns out, first, and then I'll tell you."

"You think you don't know how this turns out? Because after one day with you two, I'm pretty sure I can tell you. But I was told not to mention certain topics."

"Around Elle. Don't mention those topics around Elle."

"So explain that to me. Why exactly were you so worried, this morning, that I'd say something about moving in together or marriage? Because Elle seems pretty full steam ahead to me."

"Let's just say I've got experience with Elle seeming full steam ahead one minute and disappearing the next. And she had her reasons, and we're working on those reasons. But for now, I'm not taking any chances. Elle can drive this however fast or slow she needs to."

"Sitting back and waiting doesn't seem like your style."

"I'm not sitting back. I'm moving to LA. I'm going to be there, be with her, for every part of this. I'm just not going to worry about what she's calling us. And I've learned the hard way that grand declarations aren't the way to go with Elle. Putting her on the spot just makes her run."

"I guess it's only been a week, too."

I glance at my watch. "A week and a couple hours."

"Do I get  _that_  story?"

I chuckle, and I realize the memory is starting to feel a little less brutal. "You know how a bunch of us went to UCLA with the basketball team?"

"Yeah. Did you go find Elle?"

"Not intentionally. I decided to swim some laps. So did she, as it turned out. The news was pretty obvious once I saw her."

I see him work through the scenario in his mind.

"Damn." But before he can say more, Elle starts walking back our way. "Okay - you, me, dinner sometime this week. I told everyone here I was in the loop, and you're going to make good on that." Adam tells me right before Elle gets within earshot.

"Sure. It'll be a long dinner, though."


	24. Sunday

_**(Elle)** _

Seeing Noah here, meeting all of his friends, makes me wonder whether I should press him again on the possibility of me moving to San Francisco rather than him to LA. He'd be giving up so much, just like he's always been ready to do for me, and I'd like to show him I'm willing to do that too. And yet, he's right that being in LA, being near our families, being on territory familiar to both of us, makes a lot of sense. Maybe where we live isn't the right issue over which to make this point, but I need Noah to know that it doesn't always have to be him accommodating me.

It's getting late and my energy is flagging, but I don't want to make Noah leave the party early, so I just quietly sit next to him as he talks to friends. My head is leaning on his shoulder, and I enjoy letting his voice wash over me even as I lose track of the conversation, enjoy his warmth, enjoy the faint and familiar smell of his soap clinging to him.

Suddenly Noah's voice is directed at me and I startle. "Elle - hey, Elle, I think you've had enough of a nap. We should get you home."

"What? No - I wasn't asleep. I mean, maybe just for a second."

"Shell, you've been passed out at least half an hour."

I can see from the amused looks on the others' faces that he's telling the truth, and I think I'm still blushing by the time we get back to Noah's car.

"Sorry for being such a drag." I sigh.

"Yeah, it was really horrible, having you sleep on my shoulder. You know how much I've always hated that." Noah laughs.

"Yeah, but in front of everybody? Embarrassing."

"Somehow I've survived worse embarrassment than having a cute girl fall asleep on me. Especially when it's because I got her pregnant." He chuckles.

"Embarrassing  _for me_. And, for the record, I don't love that expression. 'Getting a girl pregnant,' like she had nothing to do with it."

"Too close to the caveman line? And you're right, this was most definitely a joint endeavor."

I don't need to look at him to know he's smirking. And I'm trying very hard  _not_  to look at him, because that would only make it harder not to dwell on memories of that  _joint endeavor_. Incredibly alluring and distracting memories. I hadn't fully thought through this "take it slowly" plan, I realize. It's definitely not a forever plan, so what is it I'm waiting for?

Maybe confidence. Not confidence in what I want; I have no doubts there. But confidence in us. Confidence that we're on the same page, that we understand and trust each other and ourselves enough to handle the next bump in the road. Confidence that  _I_ can handle the next bump in the road. Because there are going to be bumps—there always are, and even more so after adding a baby to the equation. We've managed so much progress this week, but it's still just one week, and we've got more work to do. So maybe it's not time for distraction yet.

In any case, it's a moot point for tonight because just staying awake long enough to change and brush my teeth is a challenge. I sleepily wonder if Noah's again going to wait for me to fall asleep before coming to bed—like I didn't catch on to that plan yesterday—but this time he follows close behind me and the last thing I register before falling asleep is his arm wrapping around me.

* * *

I wake to the sound of Noah whispering "Be back soon" as he kisses my cheek, and I sleepily watch him leave the room; I'm not sure he even realized I'd awoken. He's in workout clothes, and I guess some things never change. Noah needs to move like we mere mortals need to breathe, and he's an absolute bear when deprived. He twisted an ankle sophomore year and had to stay off it for two weeks, and if I'd had to put up with his crankiness about having to scale back his workouts for any longer I might have murdered him.

Trying to fall back asleep proves impossible, so finally I drag myself out of bed and take advantage of Noah's absence to explore his apartment. It's not snooping, I'm not searching through drawers or anything, it's just a chance to look around without distraction. The apartment is neat and functional, but it doesn't feel terribly homey; I don't get the sense it was set up with an expectation of staying long. He also hasn't decorated much—the walls are mostly bare, and I suspect June is to credit for the few framed pictures. Noah with his parents and Lee at Harvard graduation. A young Noah and Lee hiking somewhere. Team pictures. Some ocean and landscape shots I suspect he took. I'm not in any of the pictures, which is painful to realize.

But I'm not actually absent from the apartment, not when you know the history. That gray fleece blanket on the couch, the one he bought for me. A BU travel mug I probably left at his place. When I scan the bookshelves, several books I gave him, not to mention a few that are rightfully mine. And then, on the highest shelf, several photobooks. I'd have to climb a chair to reach them, but I don't need to open them to know what's inside—I made him those books our last summer together. There's one with all his football pictures, one with pictures from high school, and one from college. Those three are the only ones I see on the shelf, but there should be a fourth. The fourth one was our book, all my favorite pictures of the two of us and our adventures. I'm not surprised it's not out there with the others, but I do wonder what Noah did with it.

I'm getting hungry and Noah should be back in half an hour or so, according to the note he left on the counter, so I decide to make us breakfast. A search of his pantry and refrigerator turn up the ingredients for muffins and I get to making Mickey's secret recipe.

It's on my second or third time opening the refrigerator that the brightly colored card on the door catches my eye. I look closer, and it's a save-the-date for a wedding. The names sound familiar, and after some thinking I remember both from Harvard. Kyle was on the football team, and Emma lived in Noah's dorm. I don't think they were even dating last I saw them, but apparently they're getting married this summer. And then I spot a second save-the-date on the refrigerator, this one for a couple I did know about, and suddenly I remember Noah mentioning in October that his friends had started pairing off and that he already had two weddings to attend this summer.

I can't stop thinking about those save-the-dates as I assemble the muffin batter. Yesterday night every unsubtle shotgun wedding joke made me increasingly angry, but today these cards just make me feel sad. It's the reminder of what might have been, I realize.

If Dad hadn't been in that accident, if I hadn't freaked out and pushed Noah away, if we'd gotten to keep going the way we were, happy and carefree, maybe we'd be sending out cards like these now. I'd said getting married seemed unthinkable, that night everything went wrong, but I meant then, not forever. It doesn't seem unthinkable that two years later I would have felt differently, if we'd never split up. If everything had gone right. I'd have graduated, we'd have moved in together, and at some point in there we'd have gotten engaged. Or not, because who knows what else might have happened. But the decision, whatever it would have been, would have been on its own merits.

I look at the cards again, at the pictures of the beaming couples, and I realize it's also jealousy I'm feeling. Not of the getting married itself, but that people won't forever assume they only got married because they got pregnant. That they got to make this decision on its own. That they'll never wonder to themselves what they would have done otherwise. That they won't have to grit their teeth through yet another  _hilarious_ shotgun wedding joke.

But then again, what do I actually know about these couples? I shouldn't assume their choices were any easier than ours. And how do I know what our story would have been, minus Dad's accident? Maybe we would have fought over what Noah should do in that year between his graduation and mine. Maybe one of us would have gotten cold feet at the idea of settling down forever with someone they'd picked in high school. Now at least we know that after two years apart, two years of seeing who else is out there, we both lost our minds again the minute we were reunited.

I do my best to shake off this sadness and frustration. It doesn't matter what others expect us to do, or what they'll believe about our motivations for whatever we decide. It doesn't matter what other couples are doing, or what we might have done under different circumstances. It only matters what  _we_ want, and we don't have to decide anything on anyone's schedule but ours.

The door opens and a sweaty Noah walks in, distracting me from the quicksand of these thoughts. He immediately kicks off his sneakers and peels off his shirt before walking in the direction of the shower, and I don't think he noticed me here in the kitchen at all.

"What, I don't get the full show?" I tease him.

Noah freezes before turning around. "Elle! You're up! I… figured you'd still be asleep."

"Someone woke me up whispering in my ear."

"Sorry about that." At least he looks a little sheepish. "So now you're… cooking?"

"Trying to. I checked that you had all the ingredients I needed to make muffins, but apparently what I  _should_ have checked first was whether you own a muffin pan. So now it's one very big flat layer in the only baking pan I could find. I thought you claimed to cook now?"

"Yeah, I  _cook_  now. As in food, not muffins. Sorry to disappoint."

"Don't start with your 'real food' nonsense. Mickey's secret muffin recipe is the realest food there is, although we'll have to see how it turns out in sheet cake form."

Noah grins at me before shaking his head as if to chase away a thought, and his ensuing smirk tells me I'm not going to like whatever that thought was.

"What? Don't give me that look. I know that look. Just say it."

Now he gives me his best "Who, me?" fake-innocent face.

"Seriously. Just say it, whatever it is."

"It's just… you are literally barefoot and pregnant and in my kitchen, cooking. And I couldn't decide if there was any way to point out the obvious joke without you murdering me. And then I was debating whether it would be worth it anyway."

"Get out of here before I give you a chance to find out." I glare at him, but the smile I'm having to stifle undermines the believability of the glare.

Laughing, Noah retreats down the hall, and I'm more than a little tempted to follow him into the shower. Sometimes this reasonable and cautious thing is a drag.

* * *

My giant flat muffin-cake turns out surprisingly edible, and I'm trying to enjoy our breakfast without looking at the clock and thinking about how long we have left until my late afternoon flight.

"So, we've seriously got to tell my parents." Noah comments, reaching across the table for my hand.

Ah, back to this again. "Yes, I know. But it should be in person. And together. Or just you if you want, but you're not sending me in there alone and missing the fun."

"Of course not. But if you want to do this in person, it'll have to wait another two weeks - my dad's at a conference next weekend."

"I really do want to do this in person."

"So I'll come down that weekend. Not next weekend, but the one after. Should we tell Lee to fly in too, so he doesn't miss the show?" He's joking, obviously, but I'm glad Lee's over-involvement is a laughing matter now, rather than a bitter one.

"As much as Lee would love that, I don't think we need an audience. Are you going to tell your parents you're coming to visit? Or are we just showing up at their doorstep?"

"We can figure that out later."

"And what exactly are we telling them?"

Noah looks confused by the question. "That you're pregnant?"

"Duh. That part we won't have to tell them. That part has reached the self-announcing phase. I meant, what are we telling them happened?"

"The truth?" He still looks confused that I'm even asking. "They're more than aware we've spent the better part of three years dodging each other. They're not going to buy the story we told my friends."

"We're telling them that you showed up to keep me company on Mom's birthday and then instead of actually talking about what happened between us we spent the weekend having sex all over their house before I freaked out and ran away?"

"I didn't say it needed to be the  _detailed_  truth. I came to visit, we tried to reconcile but didn't get through all our misunderstandings, and then we hid out from each other until this news forced us to stop being idiots. And now we're working things out. You know that's the only part they're going to care about."

He's right, and that part of the story is the hardest to tell, because it's the one still being written.

"So that gives us two weeks to figure out answers to the questions you know they'll ask."

"They can ask. Doesn't mean we have to have answers yet. Not that we shouldn't keep talking, but we should do it for us, not our parents."

My hand is still in his, and he is tracing slow lines across my palm with his thumb. It does sound simple when he puts it that way.

"Okay. But you're in charge of telling them we don't have all those answers yet."

"Gladly. I have a good bit of experience frustrating my dad." Noah chuckles.

We're silent for a minute, and then Noah starts in again.

"Elle, are you sure you want to wait so long to tell my mom? I get that you don't want to deal with my dad without me. But you and my mom… I hate that you haven't gotten to talk to her about this. If I weren't involved, she'd have been your first call."

"If you weren't involved, there would have been no call to make."

"I meant if it weren't the two of us. If this were happening with some other guy and you could just talk to my mom without her also being…  _my_  mom."

"Maybe. But I'm glad it's you. Even if it means sharing your mom." I smile at him. "And Lee. Let's not forget that being with you also means torturing Lee. So that makes it worth it, too."

"Totally. Torturing Lee was always my main motivation here." Noah deadpans. "But seriously, Shell, you don't have to wait for me to tell my mom. It doesn't have to be about us. It's okay for this to be about you and her. For you to get this moment with her."

"Noah, no. She's your mom. It's incredibly sweet that you're trying to make this about me, but  _she's your mom_. This is her grandchild. She wants to hear this from  _you_. We'll tell her together. In two weeks. Like we just agreed."

* * *

After breakfast we curl up on the couch. We haven't discussed any plans for today, but just sitting here together doesn't seem like a bad option. I'm leaning back against Noah's chest, and his hands are trying to track Dino's muffin-fueled dance party. I've cheated Noah of too much of this experience already, so I stay quiet and let him enjoy the moment. Finally, though, a question I've been thinking about increasingly often this week spills out.

"Do you want to find out? If Dino's a boy or a girl, I mean."

"Can we still? Are there going to be more scans?"

"Probably, but the answer's already in my chart. I told them not to tell me, then, but I could just ask at my next visit. Or even call."

"Do  _you_  want to know?"

"Yes - the mystery is driving me nuts." I admit. "But if I find out, I want it to be with you."

"Is this so you can throw one of those crazy reveal parties?"

I shudder. "No. I just want to share this with you. Not… you and a crowd."

"Really? I've never known you to pass on an excuse for a party."

"Yeah, well, I've also never needed to think about this kind of party before now. Thank God."

"Thank God?"

I rush to clarify. "I didn't mean it so negatively. Just that now is a better time for this to have happened than six years ago. Or even three years ago." Worse yet, I add silently, with anyone else.

"Better now when we weren't even talking to each other until last week?" Noah seems unconvinced.

"Better now when it doesn't risk either one of us dropping out of school. Now when we're a little more mature. I mean, yes, I screwed up the start of this- " Noah starts to object, but I don't let him interrupt. "Fine, we both screwed up. But even with all that, yeah, I think now's a better time. Can you imagine dealing with this when we'd just started college?"

"We would have figured it out."

Maybe, but I still think our odds are better now. But it doesn't matter, anyway, because it didn't happen then and it did happen now.

"We're arguing over hypotheticals again. And I'm glad you have such faith in our younger selves, but we don't need to wonder what they would have done. Just what  _we_ 're going to do."

"You're right. What were we even talking about, originally?" Noah asks.

"Finding out what we're having."

"Right. So how do we do this - do I need to come down for your next appointment?"

"I was thinking I'd just ask them to put it in an envelope. And then wait for our next visit."

"And that's not going to drive you even more crazy, having the answer right there in front of you and having to wait?" He's grinning, because he knows it will.

"I'll give it to Mickey for safekeeping. She'll enjoy lording it over me."

"Do you… have a preference?"

"I don't know. I think I just want to find out, either way. Although I'm not sure I'd know what to do with a girl. Brad and Lee and you - that's what I know."

Noah winces. "See, familiarity with what  _we_  were like would have been my reason to root for a girl."

"It's going to be half you and half me. We're in trouble no matter what."

"Half you and half me, plus Lee way too eager to be as bad an influence as he can. We're doomed." Noah laughs.

But sitting here wrapped in Noah's arms, feeling the rumble of his laughter as I lean against his broad chest, feels like the furthest thing from doom. All those quicksand thoughts I'd been sinking into this morning disappear. It's only when I'm alone that any of this feels overwhelming. When Noah's here… I can believe it'll all work out. Maybe I don't know exactly what that will mean, what that will look like, but I believe it'll work out.

We eventually leave the couch, eventually come up with a plan for the time remaining before my flight. I'm in the mood for more touristing, and this time I convince Noah to visit Alcatraz. It means another ferry ride, and apparently there's something about sitting and watching the choppy waters that loosens my tongue, because today it's therapy I start talking about. I've told Mickey some and Lee a little and Dad a bit too, but this is the first time so much of the story comes tumbling out. I want Noah to hear because I need him to know how far I've come from the crushing panic that gripped me last fall. I don't blame him for treading gingerly and avoiding certain subjects entirely this week, but I need him to know I can handle all the conversations we need to have.

* * *

All too soon Noah is driving me to the airport, and it's as we near the parking lot that I realize my plan to take things slowly this weekend has been entirely too successful. Noah's arm has hardly left my side, I've spent long pleasant stretches curled up against him, but other than that kiss so rudely interrupted by his students, we've kept this weekend frustratingly chaste. Lee would be thrilled to hear we finally managed to talk before getting naked, if it were any of his damn business. And anyway, Lee's opinions are the last thing I want to think about right now. I haven't gotten nearly enough of Noah, and now we're on the verge of two weeks apart. Two weeks should be nothing after the last five months, the last two and a half years, but still it feels impossibly long.

So when Noah parks the car and reaches for his door, I stop his arm and pull him to me instead, claiming his lips with long-suppressed hunger. My move catches him off guard, but within seconds he's responding with equal fervor, managing to scoop me out of my seat and onto his lap while barely interrupting our kiss. It's a welcome transition, because now I can wind both hands into his hair as I kiss my way across his cheek to the sharp edge of his jawline and then down to nip at the spot where his neck curves into his shoulder. His hands, initially set firmly at my hips, start sliding higher, and it's when the tips of his fingers brush the edges of my bra that we both seem to remember where we are. In a car, in a busy parking lot, in broad daylight.

" _Now_  is when you finally make your move?" Noah groans with a laugh.

I flush crimson, relieved my face is hidden in his shoulder. "I realized I was about to be gone. And I wasn't ready to be."

"There must be a later flight you could take. We're going back to my place."

"So tempting. If only I weren't due at my dad's for dinner."

"Give me your phone. I'll call him. Right now."

"You sure that should be your first call to him after all this time? And given the trouble we already find ourselves in?"

I feel rather than hear Noah's answering chuckle. "He already hates me. May as well."

I finally pull myself back upright so I can look at Noah. "He doesn't. He even sometimes thinks  _you_ 're the reasonable one here. So let's not ruin that."

"I don't see what's remotely unreasonable about wanting to take you back to my place to finish what you've finally, finally started."

I lean in for a last lingering kiss. "Two weeks."

"You will be the death of me, Elle Evans."


	25. The Longest Week

_**(Noah)** _

She's trying to kill me. I was in agreement with taking things slowly, and I can't deny we've done a better job of talking this weekend than we did in October. But I did not agree to  _this_. To Shelly leaping at me minutes before she abandons me for two very long, very lonely weeks. She's lost her mind and apparently she's intent on making sure I go crazy, too.

"Two weeks," she says, before tormenting me with another reminder of everything we are now going to have to wait for. She finally breaks for air but I keep her close, leaning my forehead against hers.

"You will be the death of me, Elle Evans."

"We got through a year of a much greater distance between us, and much longer waits between visits." Elle reminds me.

"We did. But back then you would do this within five minutes of arriving, not wait until five minutes before leaving."

Her reaction is somewhere between a giggle and a sigh. "A lot is different right now."

An understatement if ever I heard one. My hands have settled back down at her waist after venturing dangerously high in our initial madness, so I am acutely aware of the most significant of those changes.

"And I'm not sorry I waited." Elle continues. "We managed a lot this weekend. A lot of necessary discussions that might not have happened if we'd been distracted."

"I'm not sorry either. And pay no attention to my grumbling. Five minutes before you leave is better than not at all. Even if I am tempted to follow you into that plane and call in sick tomorrow."

Elle closes her eyes and doesn't respond immediately. Finally, quietly, she does. "I don't want to go because when I'm with you I know we're going to work all this out."

Now I'm definitely considering following her home and just not coming back. Not if she needs me there to trust this. "And when I'm not there?"

"It's… more overwhelming. I overthink everything."

"So don't. Only think about the important part."

"Which is?"

"This. Us. Our repeated failure to get even the slightest bit over each other."

"We're really bad at getting over each other. We should stop trying." The words are joking, but her tone is entirely earnest.

"I'm already done trying. Very, extremely done. I love you, Elle. That's not new, I've just been terrible about admitting it these past few years."

"I made it kind of hard when I ran away." She whispers.

"Stop. We said we were done with that conversation. You're here now. I'm here now. And I love you." And I'm going to keep saying it until she trusts it.

Elle sits back slightly to look at me, resting her hands at my shoulders. "Me too. I mean - I love you, too. Still. I never stopped."

I watch her eyes fill with tears, and she buries her head against me again.

"Argh. It's the ridiculous crying again. I'm not sad. I am the opposite of sad." She mutters into my shoulder.

I can't help but laugh at her frustration with herself. "I know, Elle." And I don't mind at all, because she's not the only one tearing up, and I don't have the excuse she does.

We linger in this moment another minute before I give in and acknowledge the truth told by the dashboard clock. "Come on, we've got to get you to your flight. Go have dinner with your dad, then go home and call me and I'll tell you again. And the next time you feel overwhelmed, call me then too, and I'll keep telling you."

* * *

There's a lot I need to catch up on after getting back from the airport—stuff like work and laundry and groceries that had no chance at my attention so long as Elle was here—but first I've got another overdue conversation to take care of.

"Hello?" It doesn't sound like Mr. Evans recognizes the number calling him.

"Mr. Evans, hi. It's Noah."

"Ah, Noah. I was wondering how long it would take. And I've told you before to call me Mike."

"That was a long time ago, sir. I wasn't going to assume." A long time and a bad breakup and a surprise pregnancy ago, so a lot of reasons to err on the side of formality.

"What you call me isn't what I've been losing sleep over, Noah."

So this is off to a great start. At least there was some humor in his voice when he said that. I think. I may as well cut to the chase.

"I apologize for not calling sooner. I was… still figuring some things out. That I needed to talk to Elle about first. But I want you to know how seriously I am taking all of this. And that I'm going to be there for Elle, in whatever way she wants me there. And I'm sorry I let it get so bad between us that Elle didn't feel like she could tell me for so long. If I'd had any idea she was pregnant, I would have been there that day. I hope you know that." I'm rambling. I feel like I'm eighteen again and trying to convince him I'm not his worst nightmare.

"The both of you made yourselves a fine mess with this. But you're talking now, that's the important thing. Look, Noah, I don't know what exactly happened between you, but I know what I've witnessed for the last couple years. The avoiding each other was ridiculous when it was just you two, but it cannot happen again, now. You're going to have to keep talking, no matter what. You understand that, I hope."

"Completely."

"But I also hope you know you'll always have my support. Both of you, and regardless of whether you're together or not. And I'm sorry I couldn't convince Elle to tell you sooner. I do know you would have been there, if she'd let you."

"Thank you, sir. Mike, I mean."

"Please tell me you've told your parents, now?"

"Not yet." I hear him sigh with exasperation. "Elle wants it to be in person, so I'm going to come down in two weeks. Once Dad gets back to town."

"Yes, well, Elle's found a lot of reasons for putting off telling people. As you know. Don't let it go any longer or I'll stop giving vague answers when your mom asks about Elle."

"Understood."

"Look, Noah, I know Elle thinks your parents and I are going to expect you two to have some kind of grand plan all figured out. And I suspect she fears we're going to pressure you to make decisions about your relationship sooner than you might otherwise. So I'll tell you what I told her, and maybe you can get her to believe it—that I just need to know you two are talking and want to make this work. Whatever making this work turns out to look like. That's all."

I'm not sure my dad is going to be as level-headed about the situation as Elle's. But at least Mike's in our corner.

Elle calls me later that night as she's getting ready for bed. We're no longer pretending to need any reason for these calls other than to hear each other's voices. I'd say it's back to old habits, but the part when she wishes me good night from Dino is definitely new. New and still a little terrifying to think about in detail, but I'm going to take my own advice and not overthink it. I discover as I get into bed that Elle left behind the shirt she'd slept in and I'm not sure if it was absent-mindedness or an intent to mark her territory. The shirt, unsurprisingly, still smells like her, as does the pillow she used. It's going to be a hell of a long two weeks.

* * *

It feels odd on Monday morning to be back in my routine as if nothing has changed. Not quite nothing, of course. I have an entertaining stare-off with two of the interrupting students when I see them at practice; I'm pretty sure the glare I give them will only make them more convinced the story is gossip worth repeating. The news also seems to be spreading from the younger teachers who were at Saturday's party to the more senior teaching staff, so I enjoy a few more rounds of congratulations, along with questions about what this means for me next year. It's a reminder that I need to start working on the job search and the move, and that evening I start figuring out what connections I have in LA.

Mickey has taken to sending me Elle updates and pictures. I'm not entirely sure she's told Elle she's doing this, especially since most of the pictures seem to have been taken without Elle noticing, but I'm not going to be the one to snitch. Or maybe Elle does know, given their whole agreement about no secret meddling; either way, it's nice to know someone's looking out for Elle when I can't be. Elle would hate to hear me put it that way, and I know she doesn't  _need_  looking out for… but I still wish I could. And in my absence, I'm glad she's got Mickey, and I'm glad  _I_ 've got Mickey's updates. Even if the pictures aren't helping at all with how endlessly the days seem to be stretching.

Adam hasn't asked yet how the rest of the weekend went, but I know I owe him more of the story. For now he sticks to smirking at me whenever he catches me looking at my phone. It's true I've been messaging Elle a lot, in the hopes of distracting her from overthinking, and I guess I'm not being particularly covert about it.

"And that's five." Adam announces to the table at lunch on Wednesday.

I must have missed what we were talking about. "Sorry, what?"

"Text messages. That was the fifth you've sent since we sat down, and don't think we don't know to whom they're going. Parker and I have a bet going on whether you'll hit ten before we're done eating, so, please, don't stop on my account,  _Noah_."

I roll my eyes at all of them. "Glad to see you have nothing more interesting to talk about."

"More interesting than your recently-revealed secret life and transformation into a lovesick teenager? Unlikely. How is the lovely and glowing Elle?" Gwen asks.

"Great. Mine. Not a subject for lunch gossip."

"Oooh,  _touchy_. It's only been three days since she left, you shouldn't be this cranky yet. But now we know why you've been grumpy all winter." Parker laughs.

"If you're wondering why I waited so long to say anything… this. This is why. Tomorrow I'm going to sit with the actual teenagers, because they can't possibly be worse."

Adam is grinning at me from across the table, but he keeps quiet. He seeks me out later, though, and informs me that he's coming over with takeout tonight and has cleared his evening for however long the story takes to tell.

* * *

Telling Adam our story is a weird experience. Some of it I'm not sure I've ever needed to tell anyone before. The high school crowd didn't need to be told that Elle had been in my life forever, but always as Lee's other half, and they definitely didn't need to be told of my track record before Elle, or how unlikely our pairing should have been. But we also never told our classmates what exactly happened, of how we got from that incredibly public first kiss to my ill-fated appearance at prom, or from there to being inseparable. My Harvard friends, on the other hand, never heard any of the high school drama. As far as they knew, Elle and I had been dating forever, and the only challenge we'd faced was that year of long distance before she joined me in Boston. Then they heard about the break up, of course, but only my bitter version of it, and they watched me try very hard to prove to myself and everyone else how very over her I wanted to be. And then October, well - until today Lee and Mickey were the only ones who knew much about that weekend.

So actually telling our story from the start is a new experience, and some of Adam's questions make me rethink things I'd never thought much about before. And some just point out how frequently I've been an idiot.

"So let me get this straight. You went around literally ordering guys not to ask her out, but you didn't realize why? Or did you actually believe this was just normal brotherly protectiveness? Because I have a pack of older sisters, and they never once threatened my crushes. I mean, you didn't go around telling girls not to date Lee, right? That didn't clue you in that maybe, just maybe, you had a different, less brotherly, motive where Elle was involved?" Adam laughs disbelievingly.

"Lee's a guy. I didn't think I needed to worry about him the same way. And don't give me that look, Elle's already informed me how sexist that distinction was. And yeah, I was in denial for a long time. She was Lee's best friend, she'd been in my life forever, and I never once thought of her the same way I thought of all the other girls. It just took a while to figure out that wasn't for the reasons I thought."

Adam's also surprised by the number of my high school stories that involve getting into fights. I suppose it's a good sign if that part of my past seems out of character now. I guess Elle was right about my ability to change. Or maybe  _Elle_ was my ability to change.

I downplay Lee's initial opposition to us. We've hashed that out between us and with Elle, and Lee's squarely on our side now, so Adam doesn't need to know how bad it once was.

But I also don't sugarcoat the story for Adam. I'm honest about the difficulties we had with the distance, about the time it took for me to accept Elle would always have guy friends, and for Elle to believe she really was the only girl I wanted. About what an ass I made of myself when Elle turned down Stanford and I made her very sensible decision all about me. About the time it took for us to find the right balance between being together and also having our own independent college lives and friends.

I don't only tell Adam about the hard parts, of course; I also tell him how great things were most of the time. Some of the highlights he already heard on Saturday, when Elle and I were telling stories. Some of it I tell him now, like that summer we practically lived together, Lee for once out our way.

"So  _what happened_ , seriously?" Adam interrupts. "Because I know you guys weren't together when you moved here, and from what Elle said this weekend, she's been back in LA for a long time. How did you get from so happy in Boston to whatever was going on before this October? All I know so far is Lee saying you guys had some giant breakup, but he didn't tell us why, other than you being an idiot. And when we asked  _you_  about her back then, you practically bit our heads off. But Saturday you told me you've been in love with her for six years. So, what the hell?"

What the hell indeed. I'm not sure the truth is going to make any more sense, but I might as well launch into that chapter of the story.

"First, bear in mind that me being an idiot is Lee's default explanation for everything, especially anything that goes wrong between me and Elle. But he's right in this case. At least mostly."

And so I tell Adam about Mike's accident, about Elle and I rushing back to LA, that sleepless week in the hospital, and then that fight exploding out of nowhere.

"Not that I figured this out until recently, but we were so focused on protecting each other that we didn't actually listen to each other. I couldn't imagine not staying with Elle. It seemed so simple, so obvious. Her family needed her in LA, and we needed to be together. So we'd stay in LA and college would wait. But that's not how she saw it. She'd just had her whole world turned upside down, all her plans interrupted, and she couldn't bear to drag me down with her and wreck my life too, or so she saw it. And neither of us heard what the other was saying. Elle thought I didn't think she could take care of herself, of her family, on her own. That I was sacrificing myself to rescue her when she didn't need rescuing. I thought Elle wasn't taking us seriously if she couldn't understand why I'd want to stay. That maybe we weren't on the same page after all, especially after the whole marriage debacle."

"The  _what_? You guys were talking marriage?"

"Not exactly. But I'd let the hospital believe we were married, so the doctors would talk to me, and then when Elle was telling me not to stay in LA, she made this comment about how we weren't  _actually_  married. And the way she said it, like the very idea was ridiculous - it felt like a punch in the gut. Like she thought our relationship meant so much less than I did. Because, after that summer… that's where I thought we were headed. So I overreacted, escalated, made everything worse."

"And, Elle just wasn't dealing well in general. I don't think I've told you this yet, but she'd lost her mom already, to cancer, when Elle was fifteen. Almost losing her dad, too, sent her into a tailspin, but I didn't see it then, didn't realize I was making everything worse. That I was making it all about our relationship when I should have just been worrying about Elle. Anyway, it's a long story and not all mine to tell, but the final result was both of us furious and hurt on opposite sides of the country. And we just never made it past that. Until October. Well, we didn't actually make it past that in October, either. I thought we had, but then we basically… reenacted the breakup."

And so we reach this year, and I tell Adam the basics. The closer we get to current events, the less I feel like sharing the details. Elle can tell him more, if she wants. Or maybe I will when this is safely in the rearview mirror.

Adam's finally all caught up, and it's also now incredibly late.

"Alright, I think the next part will have to wait for another day." Adam comments.

"The next part? That's all of it." I think Adam might know more of it than even Lee does, now.

"All of it so far. But this story isn't over, right?"

Ah, I see. "No. Definitely not over." Hopefully not ever over.

"Yeah, that was pretty obvious this weekend. So if you want to talk about what's next, let me know. If you're not too busy texting her like a lovesick teenager. When are you seeing her?"

"Weekend after next, to tell my parents."

"Oooh, that should be fun. But I'm worried you might not survive that long. This level of pining cannot be healthy."

I roll my eyes at him, but no, it's not healthy at all.

* * *

_**(Elle)** _

Dad doesn't ask much about my trip to San Francisco, but it's probably obvious how happy I am. I do tell him Noah's planning to move back to LA, which doesn't seem to surprise him at all, and that we're planning to tell the Flynns in two weeks, which he clearly thinks is just more of my foot dragging. Dad offers to invite the Flynns for Sunday lunch that weekend, and maybe that's the easiest way to break the news, with Dad and Brad there to cheer us on.

I tell Mickey a lot more about the weekend than I told Dad, and having a confidante who's not also Noah's brother is a definite improvement. I mean, Lee and I talk about the weekend too, but there are details best left unshared with him. Like how tempted I was to miss my flight, or how impossibly, frustratingly long two weeks now seems. Those topics I reserve for Mickey.

As for Noah, he seems to be on a mission to keep me too distracted to worry or overthink. The messages roll in every morning when I wake up and whenever he gets a break during the day, mostly casual updates and questions about my day and silly memes, but there's sentimental stuff mixed in too. Old pictures, songs we both loved, references to our favorite adventures. And then there are the messages that I'm sure are intended to drive me crazy. A picture of the Hollywood sign. A mention that he has keys to all the labs at the school, and that none have security cameras. He sends stuff like this at random, unrelated to any part of our conversation, and then moves right back on to other topics, ignoring any exasperated response I send.

As the week stretches on, the prospect of a weekend without Noah feels increasingly depressing. I spent two years getting used to not seeing him, and then five months hiding from him, but now not even two weeks of being back in each other's orbit has me counting the hours until our next visit. I'm almost grateful to the mountain of work I've got to tackle this weekend for providing a distraction.

I spend Friday afternoon and early evening at the library hammering out an outline for a term paper and preparing a research update for my advisor. Around eight my phone buzzes twice, and when I see it's Mickey messaging me, I figure I'm due for a break.

_You still at the library? Come back to the apartment._

_You need dinner. Or second dinner, knowing you._

_I'm channeling my frustration into extreme productivity. But I do need a break. Thai takeout and bad TV?_

_Sorry, I'm out with the boy._

_So why did you tell me to come home?_

_Because I need you to do me a favor and swing by the apartment._

_Sure, what?_

_I left something for you. Cookies. I left cookies for you._

_The favor you need is that you made me cookies?_

_Yes. Go home._

_And it's critical I go home_ now _, because there are cookies?_

_Stop being difficult and just go home, Elle._

_Oh god, is this a surprise party?_

It's not remotely my birthday. Maybe a baby shower? But Mickey wouldn't spring that on me. At least I hope not. And it's too soon, right?

_You're so paranoid. I forgot to cover the cookies and don't want another ant invasion. And I'm already at Gabe's._

_Fine. These cookies better be epic._

_I'm confident you'll think so._

I'm still a little suspicious I'm going to open my door and walk into a surprise baby shower. Mickey could at least have given me a heads up so I could have worn something cute. But our building did have a gross ant invasion last fall, so maybe Mickey really is just worried about the cookies sitting out too long.

I pause before opening the door to listen carefully. Hearing nothing, I very slowly open the door and peek my head in. The lights are on, there are no decorations, everything looks just as I left it this morning, and I still hear nothing. So it really was just cookies Mickey wanted me to come home for. Except -

"Shelly, why are you creeping into your own apartment like a cat burglar?"

 


	26. The Least Disappointing Lack of Cookies

_**Previously:** I pause before opening the door to listen carefully. Hearing nothing, I very slowly open the door and peek my head in. The lights are on, there are no decorations, everything looks just as I left it this morning, and I still hear nothing. So it really was just cookies Mickey wanted me to come home for. Except -_

_"Shelly, why are you creeping into your own apartment like a cat burglar?"_

* * *

_**(Elle)** _

Noah. The favor Mickey wanted me to come home for was… Noah.

There are many thoughts crowding my brain as I freeze in the doorway.

That there was probably a violation of Mickey's promise not to intervene without my knowledge involved in making this happen, and that I absolutely, positively do not care if the result is Noah right here, right now.

That Noah looks criminally good in what I'm guessing is the dress shirt he wore to work, and that I really wish I'd known to wear something nicer today than leggings and a baggy tee.

That Mickey better be planning on staying at Gabe's all weekend.

That I really hope we did enough talking last weekend and this week, because I don't feel like talking much tonight.

That I have been standing in this doorway, mouth hanging open, for far too long.

"Shelly, are you waiting to be invited in? Because it's your apartment, you know." Noah's smirk is as pronounced as ever, but there's just a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"You're not cookies." Oh, smooth, Elle. Apparently the intelligent thought part of my brain is still frozen.

"Cookies?" Now Noah looks concerned that I've lost my mind.

"Mickey. She - she told me to come home because she'd made me cookies. But it's you."

"Are you disappointed?" Noah laughs.

He is leaning lazily against the kitchen counter, grinning at me, and suddenly the shock that had frozen me in place evaporates, replaced by delight and desire.

"Not even a little." I drop my bag without looking and try to keep myself from just flat-out running at him.

"Not even a little? I'm touched. I mean, I know how you feel about cookies, Shelly."

"Shut. Up." My hands are in his hair, pulling him down to me, and I set to wiping that smug look from his face the best way I know how. He'd waited almost impossibly calmly while I babbled ridiculously in the doorway, but now he springs into motion, lifting me up and spinning us around to sit me on the counter.

It's a while before we say anything again, but there's always been something about kissing Noah that leaves me unable to filter the random comments that cross my mind.

"Mickey's gone, right?"

His only answer is a muttered chuckle that sounds like "I damn well hope so" as he kisses his way down my neck.

Now his lips are busy at my collarbone, so there's nothing to keep mine from rambling. "What happened to two weeks?"

"It was a stupid plan."

"We're going to rack up a lot of frequent flyer miles, aren't we?"

"Millions."

"I can't believe I didn't realize what Mickey was plotting."

Noah's mouth crashes back down on mine, possibly in an attempt to stop the babbling, but I'm not complaining.

As irresistible as his crisp dress shirt looks on him, I find myself wishing it were a bit less impenetrable now that I want it  _off_  him; there are too damn many buttons standing in my way. My outfit may not win me any fashion awards, but it's at least proving far friendlier to Noah's roving hands. I give up on the stupid tiny buttons and instead try to untuck his shirt, but this time I'm  _too_  successful: the shirt pulls free more easily than expected and my excess momentum sends me falling back against the cabinet in what cannot have been my most graceful moment.

"Would it be terribly forward of me to point out that I have a bed and that beds are more comfortable than kitchen counters?" I mutter in embarrassment, rubbing at the back of my head.

"You're going to need to be even more forward and lead the way to your room, because I'm new here." He's laughing as he says it, but the truth of his comment hits me hard. Noah's only been to my apartment once before, two weeks ago, and that night just making eye contact was daunting.

Two weeks. It feels like we've moved mountains since Noah turned up at my door that weekend, angry and confused, but it's still only been two weeks. Not even. Thirteen days.

"Shell?" Noah's noticed my sudden hesitation, and he pulls back to see me better.

"Are we moving too fast?" I hate to ask it, but I can't screw this up again. "Don't get me wrong. I want this. I want you. I've been thinking of nothing else all week. But two weeks ago we hadn't spoken in five months. And that might have been because we rushed and got distracted instead of talking, the last time we tried this whole reunion thing."

He leans his forehead to mine; his hands, which had been teasing ever higher, are now simply splayed across my upper back, holding me close. "This isn't last time. We're already light-years ahead of last time. And while I'll admit you can be rather distracting, I don't plan to stop talking about all the things we need to talk about just because we're also… doing more than talking. But if it feels too fast to you, if it's making you worry, then we'll wait."

"It's not making me worry, not really. But maybe just - making me worry whether I  _should_  be worrying. Whether the wrong parts of my brain are making this decision. I don't want to screw this up again. I can't. I can't do it to you, or me, or… Dino."

"I don't think how far we take this tonight is going to change the stakes of getting this right. But we are going to. Get this right, I mean. We're not done talking, Shelly. I don't think we ever will be done talking. Or that we'd want to be. But I do believe that we can trust ourselves here."

I close my eyes and block out every thought but Noah. I think about how many years I've loved him, acknowledged or not, together or not. I think about the fact that the only thing that's ever split us has been not listening to each other. I think about how far we've come in just two weeks of actually listening.

"Yeah. I trust us too." I finally admit. I push Noah back slightly so I can slide off the counter, then take his hand and pull him with me.

"Shelly?"

"You said I needed to lead the way. I assumed that meant you'd follow?"

* * *

I wish I could pause to commit every moment to memory. The familiar moments and those wholly new; the wanton and the tender and the silly.

When we get into my room and Noah pushes the door closed as he so often did, by falling back against it as he scoops me up into closer reach.

When Noah finally glances up at the room after a few minutes of dedicated distraction by the door, and groans at the sight of the twin bed. "Undergraduate housing," I remind him wryly. "We have got to get you graduated," he mutters.

When Noah sets me down to free me of my shirt, and I suddenly remember the changes since he last saw me, and wonder how he'll react. That question is answered as his eyes first widen, like he'd forgotten that detail in our rush, then blaze again as he sinks to his knees to trail kisses from my shoulder down to every new curve.

When I fall back onto my bed and pull Noah down with me, and our limbs wrap and entwine reflexively, like they've never forgotten their preferred arrangement.

When Noah suddenly pauses, a hand at my belly, and asks with uncharacteristic timidity if what we're doing is okay, and I laugh and assure him it is.

When I realize that no matter how vivid, how exalted, how glorious my memories had been, the reality is better.

* * *

I wake wrapped in Noah's arms, and I can tell from the rhythm of his breathing that he's awake too. I nestle back against his chest and sigh happily.

"Mmmm. You didn't run away this morning."

"You thought I might?" His voice is still sleep-rough.

"Not actually run away. But last weekend, you kept sneaking out of bed before I woke up."

"Ah, yes. Well, I was still avoiding certain dangers last weekend."

"Dangers?"

"I knew what would happen if I lingered in bed. If I waited long enough for you to wake and start up with your wriggling and sighing and your whole morning temptress routine."

"Mmmm, I'm not sure I know what you mean." I press my back even more firmly against him. "Illuminate me."

He's flipped us and his lips are on mine before I can finish saying it.

We don't actually get up for quite a long while.

* * *

We do eventually make it out of bed. There's only so long I can be distracted from breakfast and coffee, after all, and Noah offers to get those started while I shower. My phone rings as I walk back into the living room after getting dressed, and it's Lee. I wonder if his special meddlesome spidey sense has alerted him that Noah is here.

"What's up?" I answer.

"Just checking in on my favorite mopey friend. You seemed pretty down yesterday. Have you managed to distract yourself from pining for my loser brother?"

I can't help it. I start giggling and can't stop as I look over to my kitchen where said brother is currently making me breakfast. Shirtless. I think I've been properly distracted from my pining.

"Elle?"

I still can't breathe enough to answer Lee. Now Noah's noticed and wandered over.

"I'm - I'm good." I finally manage to tell Lee.  _Lee_ , I mouth to Noah. Noah's eyes light up and he snatches my phone faster than I can stop him.

"Hey Lee." When they add Noah's picture to the dictionary entry for  _smirk_ , as they inevitably will, I hope this exact expression is the one they pick. Or maybe there will be a series of sub entries, and this face will go under  _smirk, smug_. He does have a range.

I can't quite hear Lee's exasperated spluttering in response. Noah easily fends off my attempts to grab my phone back, but puts it on speaker instead.

"I should have guessed. Should I congratulate you for at least making it all the way to the weekend? Oh God, please tell me I'm not interrupting something. No, don't tell me anything, actually. I'm hanging up now."

"Lee, no, wait - don't hang up. Noah, my phone, please!"

Noah, clearly satisfied he's caused enough trouble, returns my phone before getting back to whatever he'd been doing in the kitchen.

"Hey. Sorry about that. You're not interrupting anything other than breakfast." Good thing he didn't call a half hour earlier.

"Am I still on speaker?"

"No. It's just me."

"So I see I needn't have worried about you being lonely this weekend."

"But it was still sweet of you to check on me. Noah showed up last night without warning. Well, without warning to me; he and Mickey conspired. Did Mickey not loop you in?"

"Evidently not. But if you were whining half as much to her as you were to me, I'm not surprised she intervened."

I was actually whining far  _more_  to Mickey, and about topics Lee does not want to hear about, but no need to tell him that.

"Was I really that bad?"

"Yeah, you really were that bad. So now… things are okay?"

I can practically hear him cringing as he awaits my answer.

"Yeah, things are good." I say softly. "I know you don't want any details, but we're good. And we talked first, this time. I promise you."

"I think you just answered a question I had no intention of asking. Ugh. I need brain bleach."

"You're going to have to get used to it. Again."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm trying to remind myself of all the reasons why you two together is actually less terrible than the alternative. I should write them down, because I'm going to need frequent reminders."

"You'll live." I say dryly.

"All kidding aside, Elle - I'm happy you're happy. And if you want to talk about it, I'm here. With the brain bleach."

"I'll take you up on that, but another day."

"When I'm not distracting you from my idiot brother and his inexplicable appeal?"

"Yeah. And maybe we can also talk about  _your_  ladyfriend next time. I'm a little sick of only talking about my drama."

"About damn time. You know, I have a lot of drama to discuss too. Okay, maybe not quite baby-mama-drama type drama, thank God, but still."

"I'm sure. I'm hanging up now. I'll call you this week once your brother isn't lounging around my apartment shirtless."

" _ELLE_."

I can't help it. He makes it too easy.

* * *

For some reason Noah insists that he wants to have lunch at Paolo's today, and seems oddly impatient to get there. We've eaten there before, years ago and usually with our families, but I don't recall it being any particular favorite of Noah's, or the scene of any memorable moments, so I'm not sure why he's set on it today, or so concerned about being on time. But I'm also never one to say no to a mountain of pasta, especially not right now, so I go along with it. The mystery is solved soon after we've been seated, when I spot June parking her car across the street from the restaurant.

"Noah! Did you… set this up?"

His guilty smile says it all. "I meant it when I said you should tell my mom as soon as possible. You shouldn't have to keep this from her. And you insisted we do it together, so, here we are."

Incredibly sweet, and incredibly meddling. His signature move.

"And are you sticking around for this lunch? Or is this your brilliant plan to let me handle telling your mom that you knocked me up?" June is crossing the street. I estimate that we have thirty more seconds to strategize this.

"Whoa whoa whoa, what happened to not liking that expression because it was a joint endeavor?" Oh, wipe that smirk off your face, Noah. "And second, I do plan to leave you two to your girly discussions, but not because I'm chicken. So you have about… ten seconds to decide if you want to tell her, or if I should."

June is walking in the door, and Noah stands to wave her over. I awkwardly stay seated, as I'm pretty sure standing up to hug June would immediately end the "who tells June" debate.

To say June looks surprised to see me at the table with Noah would be an understatement, but she immediately breaks into a huge smile.

"Elle! I had no idea you'd be here! It's been far too long since I've seen you. And even longer since I've seen the two of you in the same location." June eyes us shrewdly.

I feel my cheeks blaze, but Noah is unfazed. He quirks his eyebrows at me, evidently awaiting my decision. I sheepishly gesture at him to go ahead.

"Well, better get used to seeing us together again. Especially if you're planning on spending a lot of time with your grandchild, but I'll let Elle tell you about that. Now you two have a nice lunch." And with that, a grinning Noah kisses June's cheek and starts to walk away.


	27. The Longest Lunch

_**Previously:**_  " **Well, better get used to seeing us together again. Especially if you're planning on spending a lot of time with your grandchild, but I'll let Elle tell you about that. Now you two have a nice lunch." And with that, a grinning Noah kisses June's cheek and starts to walk away.**

* * *

_**(Elle)** _

June's jaw drops, and then her whole face flashes with fury as she sets her hands at her hips.

"Noah Flynn, get your butt back to this table." She's not technically  _yelling_ , her voice is at a perfectly reasonable volume, but her tone is unmistakable.

I watch Noah freeze, then turn to face us with his best innocent smile.

"I was thinking I'd let you two catch up. Since it's been so long. And this is really more of a girl thing."

"Sit. Down."

If you've ever wondered why Noah's always trying to use his mom to win arguments with me—that June would kill him if she found out he let me sleep on the couch; that June would kill him if I moved to San Francisco—it's because he really does fear his mom to an endearing extent. Not that he actually believes June would ever hurt anyone, because that's not her style. But does he really believe he'd never ever hear the end of it? That she'd guilt him, needle him, wear him down slowly but surely? Yes. And is that belief reasonable? Probably also yes. So this should be fun.

Noah knows he's lost. He pulls a third chair up to the table and plunks himself down on it, looking vaguely sheepish.

"Now sit and be quiet while I talk to Elle." June turns her attention back to me now, and her expression instantly transforms from furious to overcome.

"Elle? Are you really?" Her voice is somewhere between disbelief and awe.

It's all I can do to nod, my voice failing me.

"Oh, Elle, honey." June's tearing up as she reaches for my hand and pulls me up for a hug. I let her wrap me in her arms and I'm so, so glad Noah forced this meeting because I have been needing this hug for a long time. And here come my own tears, because right now even soup commercials get me crying, so you can guess the effect of June holding me tightly and whispering how happy she is.

June finally pulls back and takes a long look at me, her eyes sweeping appraisingly over me. "Six months?"

"Almost," I admit.

"Well, sit down sweetie, because this is going to be a long lunch by the time you two get me caught up on this little development and why I'm just now hearing about it." June is smiling warmly, but she fixes both of us with a steady gaze that is just a little terrifying as she sits down across from me.

"It's my fault you didn't know until now. Not Noah's. He didn't even know until - " I blurt out.

June's eyebrows rise at the start of my outburst, but I clam up when the waitress suddenly appears. Once she's taken our drink orders and disappeared, Noah jumps in before I can finish my admission.

"Elle and I needed time to figure some stuff out before telling you. But we're telling you now."

"And you're telling me this together?"

I can't help but look at Noah and then back at June, confused. "Yes? Since you didn't let him get away with his disappearing act?"

"No, I mean - should I indeed be getting used to seeing the two of you together again, as Noah said before trying that disappearing act? And not your ridiculous avoidance routine of the past two years? Although, clearly you haven't been avoiding each other  _entirely_."

I can feel my cheeks flame, and I look up to see that Noah's actually blushing too. If there's one person who can rattle his otherwise unflappable confidence, it's June.

"You should get used to seeing us together again, yes." I admit.

"Because of this baby? Which I am guessing was a surprise turn of events?" June is not one to beat around the bush.

This time it's Noah who jumps in to answer. "No. Maybe with help from it, but not  _because_ of it. We were being idiots and I guess you could say this news made us see that. But it didn't change any of our feelings. They didn't need changing." I'm grateful to him for finding a graceful way to put it, and I reach for his hand.

"We had tried to... reconcile this fall, but we kind of made a mess of it again. Except  _this_  also happened. And so we're figuring it out now, instead of however long it would have taken otherwise. But we would have eventually." I add.

June is still staring steadily at us, and there's a long pause before she laughs. "Joni would be thrilled to take credit for all of this, you realize."

" _What?_ " We both splutter.

"Please. You two have never been as good at hiding as you think you are, and I can count backwards on a calendar. I got back from visiting Lee last October to find a note from Noah in the kitchen, saying he'd been in town to visit friends. But I was pretty sure I recognized the shirt I found in the dryer."

Damn it. I'd realized I'd left that shirt behind not long after getting home that awful day, but I wasn't exactly going to call Noah about it.

"And then when I went to bring Joni belated flowers for her birthday that week, I saw I wasn't the first. The ones from Elle I wasn't surprised by, but the others, and the name on that card, were more intriguing. She'd have loved those daisies, by the way."

"I told him that too." I admit. Noah's smiling slightly, but we're both still eyeing June uneasily, wondering exactly how much she'd figured out and when.

"So I hoped you two had finally gotten some sense into you and started talking again, and I figured you'd tell us soon enough. Except you never did, and then at Thanksgiving Noah and Lee were glaring at each other nonstop, and there's only ever one reason for that."

"And then Christmas came and for the first time in ages you both said you were coming to family dinner, so I got my hopes up again, but then Noah begged off at the last minute. I'll admit that's as far as I got with my suspicions. That you'd seen each other but hadn't managed to work things out.  _This_ development, though, hadn't exactly crossed my mind. Elle, is this why we hadn't seen you lately?"

I nod sheepishly.

"Please tell me at least your dad knows?"

"Yeah, Dad knows. And he's been after me to tell you for ages. He'd want me to mention that. And I'm so sorry for not telling you until now. But I had to tell Noah first, and - "

"And I didn't make it easy for Elle to tell me, so we needed some time. But we're good now. And we're telling you now." Noah interrupts me.

He's bending the truth to take the blame off of me. I'll probably end up telling June everything anyway, but I appreciate the sentiment.

June eyes us both carefully; she knows there's more to the story. Finally she reaches out to squeeze our joined hands, leaving her hand over ours.

"Look, your relationship… you know we've all tried to stay out of whatever went wrong. I've always hoped you two would work it out, and I'd be lying if I didn't say that outcome seems even more desirable now. But that's for you two to figure out. What I need to know is that you're over whatever had you avoiding each other for so long. Because that's not going to be an option any more. Even if you're not together, you're going to have to be in  _this_  together. Which means talking when something goes wrong, not hiding. And if you start going down that road again, I won't be staying out of it this time."

June's interrupted by the waitress showing up to take our orders. I don't think any of us have so much as glanced at a menu yet, and we awkwardly scramble to figure out what we want. Finally the waitress leaves us alone again and I eye June warily, wondering how much more of a lecture we're going to get. Not that I disagree with anything she's said.

"Anyway, that's all I'm going to say. I want what I've always wanted, which is for both of you to be happy, however that shakes out, but I'll admit I'll be even gladder for you two to be happy  _together_. Especially now. So I'm very glad to see you both taking this news so well. Because it deserves this reaction. This is the best news, the very best."

Now June is getting teary again and I'm sniffling too.

"The best news, even if  _this one_ tried to run away from telling me." She adds, glaring pointedly at Noah.

"I did not! I  _told_  you, first, and  _then_  I tried to let you two have this moment. Because I know Elle's missed you and it's my fault she'd been avoiding you. I did not 'run away' from anything!" Noah is mildly indignant.

"You didn't think I'd want to have this moment with you, too? My baby, having a baby?"

Watching Noah with his mom has always been one of my favorite things, because he could grow another foot and ride around in another dozen ridiculous motorcycles and he would still be June's tiny precious baby, as far as she's concerned. She's not nearly as bad with Lee, and I wonder if it's a firstborn thing.

"Yeah, I'm realizing that now. And I'd been hoping the grandchild thing would buy me a lot of forgiveness." He's back to the innocent smile.

"You realize there's one more person who needs to find out about this grandchild, right?"

"Yeah. And that's why the original plan was to visit next weekend, when Dad's back. But then I didn't want Elle to have to wait any longer to tell you, so I flew down sooner."

Sure Noah, that's definitely the only reason you flew down a week ahead of schedule. But that's not a topic for lunch with June.

"So what  _is_  your plan for telling him? I hope not another attempt to make Elle handle it alone?"

"For the last time,  _I wasn't trying to make Elle handle this_   _alone_." Poor Noah. June is absolutely never going to let him live this down.

"For the record,  _I_ 'm not mad." I smile at him. "But I will be if you try to pull this with your dad. Anyway, I'm the one who wanted to do all this in person. Noah would have just called you guys and told you already if I'd let him. But if you think Matthew will be mad to be the last to know, I don't mind if we call him now."

" _Is_  he the last to know?" June asks. "So I assume Lee knows?"

The look that crosses Noah's face at the mention of Lee isn't an entirely happy one. Lee finding out first clearly still bothers him, and I can't blame him. But then he surprises me by laughing it off and answering June before I can.

"Yeah, Lee knows, and you'll be shocked to hear he's already gone full tilt crazy into his new uncle role."

"Of course he has. And Brad must be excited too?"

Now it's my turn to laugh. "Brad is thrilled… about Noah being around again. Being an uncle, meh."

"What  _is_  your plan for being around, if I may ask?" Ah, back to blunt June.

"I'm moving here as soon as the school year's over. I gave notice yesterday."

Well, that's news to me. Noah could maybe have mentioned that he'd gone and done that. But I guess we were distracted last night.

"And then?"

"And then I find a place to live and a job and… I'm around."

I'm fairly certain Noah's planning to be more than merely "around," but that's a topic the two of us we need to address, and I know it's my fault he's been loath to bring it up.

"We haven't talked about living arrangements yet." I tell June. "But we know we need to. And we'll tell you once we figure it out."

The arrival of our food cuts off the awkward silence. June is the first to speak up afterward, and apparently she's eager to move on from the awkwardness too.

"Okay, enough of all that. I'm going to trust you two to get this right, and if you don't, that's when I'll start meddling. But for right now, I need more details about my grandchild. Like a due date. And whether I'm finally going to get to shop for tiny dresses."

I can't help but smile. I might have no idea what I'll do if faced with a baby girl, but June clearly has two and a half decades' worth of pent-up plans.

"July 18. And I don't know what it is yet. But I have some pictures, if you want." I reach for my phone and find the recent scan when Dino was waving.

"Oh, wow." June looks like she might cry again, then rallies. "These are so much better now than when I was pregnant. But they must be able to tell the sex at this point, no? Are you waiting to be surprised when it's born?"

"Not exactly. When they did that scan I didn't want to know, because… that was before I'd told Noah." Noah shoots me a look, and I know he was trying to stay vague about the timeline, but I don't want to lie to June. "But I was planning to ask at my next appointment. Since I know it's in the ultrasound report. And I do really want to know, now."

June is looking at both of us like she's trying to make her mind up about something, but in the end I'm the one who decides to just say it.

"Noah only found out two weeks ago. That's why it's taken so long to tell you.  _I_  didn't figure it out for three months, because I'm an idiot, and then I was… not ready to tell him yet. Or anyone else. Which is why you haven't seen me in so long." I'm staring down at my iced tea, nervously swirling the straw, unwilling to meet either of their eyes.

"You've been dealing with this all alone? Oh Elle, I wish I'd known."

"I wasn't entirely alone. My roommate Mickey, she's pretty great. And she's the one who figured out I was pregnant, when I was still ignoring the obvious."

"You wouldn't be the first woman to miss the signs. At least that must mean you had an easy time of it? If you weren't feeling sick enough to notice?"

"Not that easy. But I wasn't puking, and I thought everything else—the exhaustion, the feeling like crap, the crying all the time—was just school stress. And being sad. About having… screwed this up again. Seeing Noah in October, I mean."

"You didn't - " Noah tries to jump in, but I cut him off.

"I  _did_  screw it up. And you did too. We both did. But let's spare your mom those details."

There's an awkward pause, and then I go on.

"Anyway, so that's the whole ridiculous story. I know Noah was trying to make the timeline sound less bad, but you were going to figure it out at some point. I was three months along by the time I found out, and then I didn't manage to tell Noah until he showed up at UCLA two weeks ago."

June has turned to Noah now. "So the nagging did finally work." She's giving him a look and now I'm curious.

Noah rolls his eyes at June before turning back to me. "Mom is referring to the fact that when she found out I was headed to UCLA for the weekend she tried to get me to go see you."

"Is that not what happened?" June inquires.

"Do  _you_  want to tell her, Elle? Since you're the one on the full disclosure kick." There's the faintest hint of a smirk on his face, and I wonder if we're edging closer to the story being funny. But even if it isn't yet, I just don't feel like lying to June.

"I had no idea Noah was on campus. I went swimming. Noah went swimming. I didn't notice him there but he saw me, and the news announced itself, I guess."

"You two really never could do anything the easy way, could you? And if you hadn't run into each other, then what?"

June's question is a hard one. Where  _would_  we be if coincidence hadn't lent a hand?

I look down at my plate and shove my pasta around before replying. "I was actually sitting down to call Lee when I got your message, after the pool. To talk about how to tell you. It would have been really soon. I promise."

Noah reaches for my hand and squeezes it. "Hey. I know that."

"Lee told you that, too?" Of course he did.

"I meant I know you would have told me soon, even if we hadn't run into each other. But yeah, Lee also mentioned that."

I look up at June. "Lee's first act as an uncle was to fly across the country to go spill all my secrets to Noah. Because he was worried we wouldn't get things straight if left to our own devices."

"You know you two have put him in a pretty impossible position, these last couple years."

"Yeah. He's reminded me of that a few hundred times." I admit.

"Funny, I never got the impression his loyalties were at all divided." Noah chuckles.

"Alright, I promise I'm not trying to escape this topic, but I need the restroom. As usual." June is laughing in sympathy; she's been there. "If the waitress comes back while I'm gone, I want whatever dessert has the most chocolate in it."

* * *

_**(Noah)** _

I can sense Mom waiting to pounce as we watch Elle walk away.

"Noah Flynn, you had better be glad you pulled this stunt with the best news you could tell me." She looks equal parts furious and thrilled despite herself.

"Am I forgiven yet?" I smile at her.

"Not quite. Once you tell your father, and without resorting to any shenanigans or making Elle do it."

"No problem. But first I need Elle to decide if she still wants it to be in person, or if she was only insisting on that when she thought we'd be telling you then, too."

Mom reaches for my hand from across the table and smiles. "I did wonder if your out of the blue visit and lunch invitation was going to involve Elle somehow. But I really hadn't imagined this announcement."

"Neither had I, two weeks ago."

"I'd say you had at least  _some_  reason to think this was a possibility." She's giving me a pointed look.

"Are you going to give me that lecture again?" Dad had been in charge of  _the_  talk, way way back when, but when Mom found out about me and Elle there was a super uncomfortable, extra threatening, very special conversation about not getting ourselves into this exact situation.

"Shouldn't I? It clearly didn't make enough of an impression."

I could point out we  _were_ being careful, but that's just too much sharing. "I seem to recall you threatened to kill me if this happened before we finished college. And Elle graduates in June, so, technically…" I give her my best winning smile.

"You're just lucky Joni's birthday isn't a month earlier." But she can't help but laugh as she says it. "How are you doing with this news, really? I can see you two are back to gazing at each other, but a baby is big news to adjust to. Especially an unexpected one."

"It's a little terrifying, and the circumstances aren't how I would have planned this, but how could I not be happy about it—I mean, it's Elle, you know?"

"I do know. But that didn't stop you from spending two years avoiding each other."

"Trust me when I say those two years have been the subject of recent conversation. Extensive conversation."

"Productive conversation?"

"Yeah. I think so. And some of it is Elle's story to tell, so I'll leave it to her."

There's silence, and I wonder how much more to tell her.

"I actually would appreciate it if you talked to Elle about how she's doing. Not with me around, I mean. This can't be easy for her, and I think she's trying to act more confident than she feels. But maybe she'll tell you."

"Oh, I planned on a lot of conversations with Elle. But what about you? Are you admitting any of  _your_  worries to her?"

Mom knows me too well. I give her a half smile as I answer. "Not entirely. She needs me to be the calm one right now."

"Are you talking to anyone else? Lee, or any friends?"

"Yeah. Both."

"Good. Poor Lee. He must be knee deep in the middle of this already. And let him know I know, because now I realize why he was so tense the last time we talked. I asked him if he knew why Elle had been dodging family lunches and he practically choked on his drink."

Mom takes a long drink from her glass before staring me down again.

"Noah, I love you dearly, but if you screw this up I will kill you myself. Not that I think you will. But just so we're clear on the stakes here."

"Crystal."

Elle's reappearance rescues us, and Mom seems to be done interrogating us about our plans and our relationship for the moment. Instead she's got a million questions for Elle about the pregnancy and how she's been feeling. It's exactly the kind of conversation I know Elle had been needing my mom for, and it's exactly why I'd set up this lunch. But I don't mind having been forced to stay. I wish I hadn't missed all the stuff Elle is recounting, but at least I'm getting to hear about it now.

Letting the two of them chat also gives me a chance to think through the rest of my plans for the weekend. The obvious appeal of seeing Elle sooner and my plan to make this lunch happen weren't actually my only reasons for flying down. I've got Harvard friends here working for companies I'm interested in, and we've made plans to hang out this weekend and talk about job leads. I know Dad would be only too glad to send me to talk to  _his_  friends, but I'd rather try to work my own network first.

We finally make it out of the restaurant and back to Elle's car after several rounds of hugging and tears from my mom, not to mention more nagging to decide how and when we're telling Dad.

Elle drops her head dramatically back against the headrest as she sits down, closing her eyes and making no move to start the car.

"I think I need a nap. To recover. That was… a lot."

"You think it was a lot for you? You missed out on all the grilling while you were in the bathroom."

"Oh yeah? Anything good?"

"Threats of another safe sex lecture. A warning there'd be hell to pay if I screw this up. The usual. You are her favorite, after all."

"Are you kidding? Did you miss the 'my baby, having a baby' part? Please. You always were and always will be her favorite. Just ask Lee."

"I can't believe she's known about October this whole time and managed not to say anything. And seriously, what is with you and forgetting shirts? Do you just… leave a trail of them behind wherever you go?"

"What? No!"

"Really? Have you wondered yet where your sleep shirt from last weekend is?"

"Oh, that. Yeah, I know where it is. And it better be right where I left it. It's there to warn all the other girls."

"All none of them?"

"So the shirt is doing its job. Good." She's still flopped back against the seat, but I can see her grinning.

"Maybe  _I_  need to start leaving shirts all over your apartment."

Now she sits up to look at me. "Seriously? You think you need to mark your territory  _more_? This belly is sufficient, I assure you. You've even cost me my cookie friend."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"This guy in my history seminar. He used to always bring cookies and share them with me. And then he'd ask me to lunch after class, and I'd say no, and it would be a little awkward, but he still kept bringing cookies. But apparently  _this_  finally discouraged him. And now I have to bring my own snacks to class."

"I'm not even remotely sorry. Are there any other suitors I need to scare away?"

"No, that was it."

"Good."

"So, I don't know what you had planned for this afternoon, but I wasn't kidding about needing a nap to recover from lunch. And as much as I hate to say it, at some point I need to finish some work. Will I be ruining any more surprise plans of yours if I just drive us back to my place?"

"They wouldn't be surprise plans if I told you, now would they?"

" _Noah_."

"Yes, drive us back. And yes, go ahead and nap and do your work if you need to. That actually works out well, because there are some friends I was going to try to meet up with. But if you think you can spare some time away from your homework this evening, I wouldn't mind your company, although I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of any surprise plans."


	28. Necessary Conversations

_**(Noah)** _

Elle wasn't kidding about needing a nap. She curls up next to me on the couch when we get back and by the time I've sent off messages to the friends who'd said they could meet this weekend she's asleep, her head propped on my leg. I don't think I'd realized how much the pregnancy is affecting her until hearing the stories she told my mom today, and I'm frustrated by how little help I can offer right now. Even if I move back the day classes are over, she'll still have been on her own for nearly the whole pregnancy. Well, not entirely on her own. She's had Mickey, and then her dad, and I'm sure my mom will be driving her nuts with attention now. But I haven't been there. I didn't know, of course, but reminding myself of that doesn't actually help—I'd have known if I hadn't been too proud to call first. Or if I hadn't been so all or nothing to begin with.

I hear back from a couple friends and we agree to meet in an hour not far from Elle's apartment. Hopefully by then she won't get too mad if my departure from the couch cuts short her nap. In the meantime I scroll through my calendar and try to figure out if there are any weekends I  _can't_ fly down, because otherwise I'm planning to make this a weekly trip.

A message from Lee arrives about a half hour into Elle's nap.

_Just talked to mom. She's basically delirious. Congrats on continued most favored son status._

_What can I say, weak competition._

_Hilarious. But seriously, no way I'd get this reaction if I knocked up my gf._

_The difference is Elle. Not me. She's the favorite._

_When you put it that way it just makes this weirder._

_You're the only one still hung up on this._

_How is that favorite child doing? She's ignoring my messages again._

_Napping. Two hours with Mom is a whole lot of Mom._

_You sure you want to move back to LA and Mom striking distance?_

_Better hope so because I resigned already._

_Finally going to make Dad happy and get a real job?_

_Teaching is a real job. Just not one he likes. And what about you, joining the family business after graduation?_

Dad has a narrow definition of real job, mostly involving the size of the paycheck. He got his start the old-fashioned way—nepotism, rising through the ranks of the company his own father founded. Then, after that company went public, Dad plowed his share of the windfall into co-founding a tech venture capital firm. He's always made it clear he expects me and Lee to follow, and while we did pick Dad-approved engineering majors, we've both steadily rebuffed his attempts to bring us into the fold. That's why I'm meeting with these friends today, to try and network my way to a job not beholden to Dad or Dad's buddies. I don't mean to sound ungrateful for all Dad's done or the advantages his and granddad's money have given us, but I'd like to do something that's my own, and Lee seems to be of the same mind.

_Still weighing options. But no, not with Dad. What's your plan?_

_Working on it. Ask me in a few weeks._

_Have you talked to Elle about it?_

_Also working on that._

_TALK TO HER_

_Right this minute? No, she's asleep. But chill, we will._

I don't need Lee's nagging to know these are discussions Elle and I need to be having. Not just about what I'll be doing, but what she's planned for herself. She'd had such big dreams when we started college, and I don't want her giving up on them. We just haven't gotten that far yet in our long list of of necessary discussions. Our living arrangements also need discussing soon, especially after that awkward moment at lunch.

I've told Elle I'm moving to LA, but so far I've avoided phrasing it as moving in  _with_  her. There's the issue of Elle's reaction the last times I suggested something like this, and then there's the weirdness of our status. The weirdness of having six years of history and yet having just barely begun again. It's also becoming clear to me that Elle hates the idea that any of our decisions are being forced or accelerated by our situation. So while it should be incredibly obvious that the best way for me to be there for Elle and take on my share of responsibility would be for me to...  _be_ there, living with her, I need her to come to that conclusion on her own and without feeling forced into it.

* * *

Elle wakes herself from her nap not long before I need to head out to meet my friends.

"I wasn't sure you'd still be here. How long was I asleep?" Elle sits herself halfway up, leaning her head on my shoulder.

"A solid hour. Feeling any better?"

"Much. Did you get something scheduled with your friends?"

"Yeah—I should leave in a few minutes."

"Any friends I would know?"

"Joe Cortez from the team. You'd recognize him if you saw him. And Natalie I'm certain you remember."

"Theo's Natalie? I liked her. She lives here now?"

"She stopped being Theo's Natalie a long time ago, but yeah. She'd probably love to see you again, if you want me to put you in touch."

"Yeah, say hi for me."

"How long do you want me to clear out of here so you can work?" Elle hasn't yet moved to get up from the couch, still draped drowsily on my shoulder.

"I don't  _want_  you to clear out at all. But I'd feel better about the week if you gave me until seven. Does that work with whatever you have planned?"

"Yeah, about that... I was only teasing earlier, about having more surprises planned. I hadn't actually planned anything other than... being here with you. Since that's still pretty novel by itself. Do I need to come up with a more elaborate plan?"

"No. You being here is more than special enough." She's looking up at me with a soft smile that has me reconsidering all our afternoon plans. But no, we've both got work to do.

* * *

Joe and Natalie both beat me to the coffee shop and we spend a while catching up. Natalie and I have kept in touch occasionally since graduation, but Joe was two years ahead of us and we haven't talked much since he left Harvard. He's apparently recently engaged and eager to vent about wedding planning.

"So basically we're going to need to elope to avoid our parents driving us nuts for the next year. Seriously. Never get married. Or, like, get married, but never have a wedding."

"Thanks, but I'm in no danger of needing your sage advice," Natalie laughs. "I'd settle for meeting someone who isn't blatantly swiping through his hookup apps while we're supposed to be on a date. Post-college dating  _sucks_."

"What about you? You're not still with your high school girl, are you? Ellen, right?" Joe asks.

Natalie grimaces and jumps in faster than I can.

"You mean Elle, but nooooooo, don't bring her up. He'll get all cranky on us."

"Actually - " I try to answer, but Natalie cuts me off.

"Oh, don't deny it. You were unbearable senior year."

"Bad breakup?" Joe asks.

"Yeah, but - "

"The worst. She dumped him and he moped for months." Natalie continues to helpfully contribute.

"That's too bad. She was cute." Joe comments, and I can't help but glare at him. It's a reflex.

"She  _is_  cute." I finally manage to finish a sentence without being interrupted.

My comment flies right over Joe's head, but Natalie cocks her head in curiosity. " _Is_  cute, present tense?"

I grin at her.

"No. You're kidding. Really?"

"Yep."

"How have  _none_  of us heard about this yet?"

"Unlike you, some of us don't post every detail of our lives online." True, even if not really why my Harvard friends haven't heard about this yet.

"Wait, is this why you're moving back here? Is she still in LA?"

"Yeah. She said to say hi, by the way."

"Wow. So you're not just back together, you're, like, moving-for-her back together? Were you planning on, I don't know, telling any of us? I mean, I always liked Elle. Other than the part when she dumped you."

"Yeah, about that... there was more to it than I told you all, back then. So maybe avoid the dumping talk when you see her."

"Well, now I'm very motivated to help you find a job. I need you to move here ASAP so I can see Elle again and find out what the heck else you've been hiding all this time."

I have to laugh at that one. Natalie looks stunned enough, no need yet to blow her mind with the rest of our news.

"That  _was_ the point of this get-together, I thought. So yeah, let's get talking."

* * *

I've got an hour left to kill after Joe and Natalie are gone, and I debate again whether to come up with some kind of elaborate plan for tonight. That was always my thing, to show up on Fridays after Elle's last class with some adventure planned for us, and I find myself wanting to slip back into all our best habits. But I don't want another meal out with constant interruptions from a waiter, or anywhere too noisy to talk, and some inconvenient rain rules out outdoor plans. And we really do need to just talk, so staying in is probably for the best. Thankfully, I have an inside source to tap—Mickey. One phone call later, I've got very specific instructions on where to pick up dinner and what to order for Elle. I'm also attempting to extract intel on more important topics, but that conversation isn't working out as well.

"You realize this is getting awful close to talking behind Elle's back, right? Which she made me promise not to do?" Mickey reminds me.

"I believe you promised not to  _meddle_. Which merely providing your impressions wouldn't be." I argue back.

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure I have much useful information in any case. I think Elle was putting off figuring out where to live after graduation until she'd dealt with telling you. And we all know how long that took." Mickey laughs dryly. "So I'm not sure she had a plan yet. If you weren't moving here, I don't know. I think she'd probably move home. But I assumed you moving here meant you'd be living together?"

"Sure, that would be the obvious, rational conclusion. But..."

"But you think Elle's going to get weird about it if you bring it up?"

"Basically."

"Give her more credit. Yeah, she freaked out the other times, I get it. But you realize I know that because she told me about those times, right? She's well aware of how things played out before. So stop avoiding the subject and give her a chance to react better this time."

* * *

And of course, Mickey was right that I should have given Elle more credit, because it's Elle who beats me to the punch.

I get back to Elle's apartment not long after seven and find her still deep into her study groove. Her hair is twisted haphazardly on top of her head, there's an explosion of illegibly scrawled post-it notes all around her desk, and I see the remains of at least two peanut butter toasts in the kitchen. If not for the belly that even her—well,  _my_ , but I doubt I'll win this battle—giant hoodie no longer quite conceals, she'd look just like I remember from a hundred attempts in Boston to distract her from her studies. She looks delighted by my return, although I quickly realize it's the bags I've just set down on the kitchen counter that she's staring at, not me.

"Ooooh, is that from the Thai place down the street? Did Mickey tell you? Did you get panaang curry? And the soup with the mushrooms? And the chicken skewers with the peanut sauce? And please tell me you got sticky rice for dessert. Because sometimes they tell me they don't have it but they're lying, it's just that they've run out of mango and think no one will order it with just the rice, but why would I care about the fruit part when the whole point is the coconut rice?" She's digging through the bags with glee and Mickey was clearly not exaggerating when she said this was Elle's favorite.

"Yes, to all of those. Although how you can possibly still be hungry after that lunch and your apparent peanut butter frenzy while I was gone - "

"Are you  _seriously_ asking? I thought Adam was going to sit you down and explain how pregnancy works to you. Yes, I am still hungry. And if you want any of this food for yourself, be nicer to me. Because this is all your fault, I should remind you."

"Again, I really thought you'd made it clear you considered this to have been a joint endeavor."

Yeah, I earned that shove.

Dinner distracts us for a while, but eventually we get back to real conversations.

"Are you still planning to fly down next weekend, so we can tell your dad?"

"Yes to flying down, although, now that we've told my mom, I should probably just call Dad tomorrow. Mom's not going to be able to keep this quiet much longer. But I was planning on flying down anyway. I was thinking I'd fly down every weekend, actually."

Elle starts to say something, stops herself, laughs, and finally answers. "I was going to say that's ridiculous. Except—I want you to, ridiculous or not."

"Is it even that ridiculous? It's only two more months until I move here, anyway."

"Now that you've gone and resigned without warning me, you mean?"

I look at her in confusion. "We talked about it—last weekend."

"What if I wanted to move to San Francisco?"

"Elle, you saw my mom's reaction today. We have all our family here. Would you actually want to leave all this behind?"

"Yeah, and you have all those friends in San Francisco, and a job. Or at least, you did."

"A job I never intended to stay in for more than a few years. And most of my friends won't be sticking around, either. They hire a bunch of recent grads to coach and and so they'll have some young people among the teaching staff, but they know most of us will move on. That was always the plan." I pause, then smile. "If it's your new best friend Adam you're worried about, he's planning to leave after next year. So start telling him how great LA is, if losing him is what's bothering you."

"Fine. And I know you did mention you were  _planning_ to resign. But still, tell me when you take these big steps, next time. Before you tell your mom."

"Promise."

"Are you really going to fly here every weekend? I could visit you, too." Elle offers.

"Sure. But I also have stuff to get done down here. Like finding a place to live. And hopefully, interviewing for jobs. That's why I was meeting with Natalie and Joe—to figure out job leads. And I've got some more people to talk to."

"Well, the finding a place to live part I can work on."

"Thanks, I could use the help."

Elle eyes me oddly. "I mean, it's not really 'help.' I'd kind of like a vote on where we live."

I come close to spitting out the bite of food I'd just taken. "We?"

"Oh, don't play coy. Obviously we're going to live together."

"Wait. Back up about six steps in this conversation that I wasn't aware we'd had." Apparently while I was busy looking for a way to make Elle think moving in together was her idea all along and not something to freak out about, she'd actually... already decided on it.

"Look, I know why you're giving me that look, and I know why you've avoided the topic. But you don't need to. I'm not going to get all panicked about it. It's what makes sense."

And  _that's_ when I recognize the jut of her chin and the tension in her jaw. It's the brave face again, and the brave face means there's a lot she's not saying.

"Shell, we don't have to do anything just because it 'makes sense.'"

She's staring at her food rather than looking at me, like at lunch when things got awkward. "I mean, what else would we do?"

"I don't know. Whatever else you want. You could move home. You could get your own place. Hell, you could make my mom's life and go live with  _her_. I'm sure she could spare some room for you and a baby in that house."

She smiles at that, but shakes her head. "Except I don't want to do any of those. And I  _do_  want to live with you. It's just... frustrating."

"Frustrating how?" I need this to be something she's happy about. Not resigned to.

"It's a little ridiculous, no? That we're having this conversation already, when two weeks ago we weren't even speaking?"

"The ridiculous part was that we weren't speaking two weeks ago. For us to be talking about moving in together, no, I don't think it's ridiculous at all."

"Are you honestly telling me that if I weren't pregnant we'd still be having this conversation? That if we'd stayed safely on the 97% side of the odds, we'd be considering moving in together right now?"

"Yeah, maybe. I mean, you know I wanted to before all this. And I know you weren't ready last fall to think about that yet, but... yeah, I do think it's entirely possible we'd be having this conversation, right now."

"I guess. But it would still be—a conversation. Not a foregone conclusion. Not the most logical solution to a problem. I guess that's what I mean by frustrating. That even if we want to, we also just kind of... have to. There isn't much of a decision left." She's back to staring at her plate instead of looking at me.

"We really don't  _have_  to. There are a lot of other arrangements we could come up with. If we wanted to. But I was hoping you'd agree this is the most appealing one. Regardless of whether it also happens to make sense."

I get why she's struggling with this, because I feel that frustration too. I wish we'd heard each other in October. I wish we'd found our way back to each other sooner than October. I wish we hadn't split in the first place. I wish for any number of what-ifs that would have left us more breathing room to give each of these decisions and milestones their own time. But we are where we are and I can only hope Elle will see that too. That she won't let regrets about not having gotten it right earlier keep us from getting it right now.

Elle speaks up again. "I guess it wouldn't be the first big decision we've rushed."

I'm not sure what she means until she looks up and I see her smirk. Our teenage impatience doesn't strike me as the most appropriate comparison for this decision, but hey, whatever convinces her. I certainly don't mind the reminder.

"And you're right. It is what I want to do." Elle continues. "So really I just need to know that you want to, too. And not because it's the reasonable thing to do. Because you  _want_  to."

"Are you... are you trying to talk me into what I've spent the past week trying to figure out how to talk  _you_  into? Yes, you dork. Of course I  _want_  to live with you. Have you not been paying attention... ever?"

Elle giggles, and this time it's a real smile she gives me, not her brave face. We can start working on the details tomorrow, but for now I'm going to enjoy having so satisfactorily crossed this item off the list of necessary conversations. I wonder what else among the topics I've been avoiding Elle has already decided for us without telling me. There's really only one topic with an even bigger caution flag flying over it than this one, but I'm not going to press my luck this weekend.


	29. Insomnia

_**(Elle)** _

I wake to find the sky outside still dark; my phone confirms it's the middle of the night. I don't know if it was a weird dream, a loud noise outside, or just general pregnancy insomnia, but now I'm completely awake. Whatever it was doesn't seem to have affected Noah, so I slip out of my bed carefully to avoid waking him and make my way to the kitchen, hoping a warm drink will help me fall back asleep.

I tidy the living room to distract myself while heating water for tea, and that's when the memories flood back. All those lonely middle of the night wakings—I didn't sleep through the night once while Dad was hospitalized. No matter how early or late I went to bed, no matter what white noise or allegedly soothing nature sounds I put on my speakers, no matter how warm or cool I kept my room, no matter what I'd wake up in the wee hours. I had a routine. I'd check on Brad, make sure he was still asleep. Check that all the upstairs windows were still locked, then go downstairs and check all _those_ windows and doors. I hated being in that big house without Dad. I'd make some tea, toast some bread, and then sit on the couch with my phone and my tea and my toast and try to distract myself until I felt sleepy again.

I'd imagine myself back on campus and wonder what my friends were up to. Sometimes I'd let myself look at their social media, but it was usually too painful to actually see everything I was missing. So mostly I just imagined, speculated. Whether my soccer team would repeat as intramural champions. Whether anyone in my lab had taken over my project. What group Halloween costume my suitemates had come up with this year.

But of course, those thoughts were just distractions. The less painful topics I focused on instead of those I missed most. At least I could let myself wallow in missing Lee, as painful as that was. We still talked as often as possible, and he went out of his way to always pick up if he saw me calling. Kristina probably hated me for monopolizing her boyfriend. Except I knew she didn't, because she was awesome. She called me, too, and I missed both of them, missed our dinners and our dance-offs and our private jokes. It's odd to realize I never saw her again, not after she and Lee broke up the next year and things just got too awkward.

But again, those were still just distractions. Because what I absolutely least wanted to think about during all those sleepless nights back then was Noah. Noah at whom I was still furious, yet desperately missing. And furious at myself. I couldn't even have told you what I wanted him or us to have done differently, at that point. To have stayed or not stayed. To have broken up or not. To have listened or kept pushing when I told him I couldn't keep talking about it, couldn't keep fighting about it, and please just stop calling. I had felt relieved when he _had_ stopped calling, and maybe if I could just stop thinking about him I'd start to feel less lost. Except then I would stare at the clock and add three hours and wonder what would happen if I called. Three a.m. in LA meant six a.m. in Cambridge meant he'd be awake, getting ready for practice. I knew every minute of his routine and I'd stare at the phone until the window had passed, until I knew he was safely away from his phone again.

Sometimes I couldn't stop myself from imagining him there with me. Imagining he'd stayed and wondering how that would have been. Except I never let myself picture it working it out. I thought up a dozen different ways it would have blown up. A dozen justifications for not having let us even try.

The electric kettle beeps at me and I shake those memories off. Those days are long past, and we're here now. Dad is safely home, I'm about to graduate, and Noah is back. It's his jacket that's hanging off the back of one of the dining chairs, his shoes discarded next to mine by the door, his shirt I retrieved from the floor and pulled on when I slipped out of bed. And probably his fault I'm awake, or at least his kid's fault. His kid. My kid. Ours. Somehow in all this thinking and worrying about being pregnant I haven't let myself think about the inevitable resulting baby much beyond the abstract, but Dino's gotten a lot more real these past two weeks.

I clear the last of the dinner dishes while waiting for my tea to steep. We'd gotten... _distracted_ sometime around dessert and never made it back to the kitchen. I think back to the light in Noah's eyes when he realized I really was okay, so much more than okay, with the idea of us moving in together. And that's why I'd brought it up tonight. To get that other look out of his eyes—that guarded look he'd get, the wary tone of his voice whenever he carefully referred to moving to LA, or wherever else I planned to be, without ever saying we'd live _together_. I know I've given him reason to avoid these topics, but I don't want to be treated like a live grenade.

But maybe I'm also sick of trying to pretend these decisions aren't huge and scary. My therapist reminded me of that, this week. That having a baby and rekindling this relationship and figuring out what's next, not just with the baby and Noah, but even just dealing with graduating, are all major steps, and that it's normal to feel overwhelmed sometimes. That admitting it doesn't mean I'm not dealing well, or that I'm going to run away. That admitting it is actually the best way to make sure I don't get to the running-away point at all.

So now I let myself have a moment to be overwhelmed by it all. By the sheer magnitude of the changes coming. I curl up on the couch with my tea and let the past two weeks, the last year, sink in. The tears come, but that's no surprise these days.

I stare at the door and remember my hand shaking as I opened it two weeks ago. Remember that first sight of Noah and the palpable anger gripping him, remember his expression in the brief second I'd managed to look up before the raw hurt in his eyes made me look away. But then I remind myself that every moment since has been a little bit better. Noah had said things would probably get worse before they got better, that night when he was telling me he believed we could fix this, but he'd been wrong. That first moment was the worst by far.

At least I hope it will have been the worst. Noah's been so… calm about all this, at least after those first days. He'd said he just didn't feel like being angry, just didn't want to keep rehashing the past, but I don't know if I should be waiting for the other shoe to drop. He's given me no reason not to trust him, and so many reasons to believe him, but it's just all so much—how can he _not_ find it daunting? And not just all so much, right now. All so much to come.

There's no way we know what we're getting into. This baby is going to show up and—then what? I try to remind myself of what Dad keeps telling me, that no one actually knows how to be a parent until they just… do it. Suddenly I'm very glad we're staying here in LA, because I have a feeling I'm about to need Dad in a whole new way. And June. I hope Noah knows how grateful I am for today's lunch. I had no idea how much I needed June until I was in her arms, all wrapped up and safe.

I don't hear my bedroom door open, so it's Noah's voice that startles me, his confused "Elle?" in that groggy voice I usually love, except the last thing I want right now is for him to worry why I'm up late crying. But it's too late, he's seen me, and it only takes a few of his long strides for him to cross the room and drop next to me on the couch.

"Shell, what's wrong?"

I make a futile attempt to dry my eyes. "Nothing. It's just—everything. It's everything." I'd tried and failed to keep my voice from wobbling.

"Everything is wrong?"

Argh, clearly not the right way to put it. I'm not sure how to explain I just needed this cry. Without anything being wrong. Or at least, not anything new.

"No. Not _wrong_. It's just… a lot. All of it. The baby. Graduating. You moving here. The baby. You moving here _for me_. Us. Did I mention the baby? Because the baby, that's a lot all by itself. Before I even get to all the rest of it."

"We'll figure it out." He tries to pull me against his chest, to tuck me into his reassuring hold as he has so many times these last two weeks, and suddenly I've had enough. The calm. The reassurance. The acting like all this is just totally normal when it's so not.

I sit up, fending off his attempt to draw me closer, pushing back his hands. " _Stop_. Doesn't any of this scare you? How can you be so _calm_ , so _collected_ , so always just fine with all of this? This is not _fine_. This is not _easy_. This is freaking terrifying and _none_ of this is how it was supposed to happen." My voice is increasing in volume and frustration as I go.

"Elle?" God, he looks so confused. And I'm being such an ungrateful wretch, getting mad at him for being _too_ supportive. _Too_ okay with this. _Too_ forgiving of my screwups.

"I'm sorry. I'm being crazy. And unfair. And I know _why_ you think you need to be the confident one, and why you think you need to reassure me all the time. But how do you think it makes me feel to be the only one losing my shit while you act so calm? It's _normal_ for this to freak us out. But when you act like it's no big deal, it just makes me feel like something is wrong with _me_ , if I can't be so calm."

I hadn't meant for it to come out that way. But maybe I needed it to.

I can see him hesitate, looking away from me. He leans his elbows on his knees, clasping and unclasping his hands, fiddling with his class ring.

"You're right. I didn't want to make things harder on you, to make you deal with my worries, so yeah, I've been holding some of it back. But _not_ because I didn't think you could handle it. It just didn't seem helpful. To either of us. So if I've made you feel worse, God, I'm sorry. I promise you it's not because I think this is easy. Or not a big deal. Although I do honestly believe we'll figure it out. I really do. And that just seemed like the better part to focus on."

"It does help. Most of the time. But knowing I'm not the only scared one would also help."

Noah looks at me now, then launches in. "The morning after you told me, I woke up in a cold sweat. When all the realities hit me. And I didn't even want to start thinking about the baby and what that would mean, because that was terrifying and I just wanted to think about you. About having seen you and having realized that getting over you never would work. And I didn't know if I should resent this surprise for making everything more complicated, or be selfishly grateful it would force us to talk. And I was so afraid I'd screw this up. Trust me, I didn't think any of this was easy. And I wasn't particularly calm."

"You did sound kind of… off, those first days after. I don't know. I was trying not to overanalyze your messages. I figured it was a lot you'd just had dumped on you."

"I don't even remember what I said. If I was a jerk, I apologize."

"No, nowhere near that. Just… not quite you. Until you called. Then you were you." I'd cried myself to sleep after that call. Not out of sadness, out of relief and joy.

"Well, don't tell Lee, but his little intervention helped get my head straight. I mean, I would have gotten there anyway. But slower."

"I'm sure Lee has told you how he thinks we should thank him."

Noah chuckles at that. "Yeah. Several times. We agree that's not happening, right? Because if you want me to be honest about the things I'm scared of, you naming our child Lee, that's right there near the top."

I lean over to smack him, and this time I let him pull me into his lap.

"I'm sorry I haven't been completely open about everything. You have so much to deal with already, and I didn't want to add to that. I thought you might need me to be the calm one."

"I just need you to be you. I mean, I like the calm. And it does help. But only if I know it's for real. So tell me when you're not calm, too."

"You mean like when Natalie was talking today about going back for our five-year reunion, and I realized Dino would be nearly _three_ by then? And then I realized that I hadn't yet thought that far ahead, that at some point we're going to have, like, an actual kid that talks back and throws balls through windows and crashes our car into the neighbors' mailbox, and that I have no idea how to deal with that?"

"We probably have a little time before we need to worry about the kid stealing the car. Even your kid."

I've curled up against Noah's chest now, letting him wrap me in his arms. I'm feeling brave enough for a question that's tormented me all week.

"It's not just the calm about the baby that worried me. Sometimes I wonder—why you're not more angry. At me. For disappearing. For not telling you."

Noah sighs into my hair. Maybe I should have left it alone. But I need to know.

"I _was_. I was furious. At the pool, when I saw you, and then trying to make up my mind to call you, and then all the way to your door. I was furious, and confused, and half convinced contacting you was a mistake and I should have just never let you know I'd seen you. But then you opened the door. And I was still furious, but… it was you. And I realized what I most feared in that moment was you having moved on. Every other crazy explanation for what I'd seen I could work with, but not you actually being done with us. And, anyway, that was before we'd started talking. I meant it, on that first call, when I said I didn't feel like being angry. And I'm just not."

I snuggle deeper into his arms, finally starting to feel sleepy again. The rest can wait until tomorrow.

But apparently Noah's not done with this conversation. "Shell, when you said none of this was how it was supposed to happen—what did you mean?"

Definitely a question I would have left for tomorrow, if ever. "Just—that everything's all out of order. It's not that I never imagined we'd be here, but not… like this. Not right now, completely unplanned, when we weren't even together. In this big rush."

I wonder whether to say more or whether it's too much already. Obviously the way it was _supposed_ to happen, if everything went right, was that we'd finish college, move in together at some point, and then, sometime after that, maybe talk about getting married. And then, sometime after _that_ , start talking about kids. In some really faraway hypothetical future where everything hadn't gone wrong. But I'm not up for talking about all that. There's just no room in my brain for those discussions right now.

"Yeah." The long pause before Noah continues tells me he's choosing his words carefully, too. "This isn't how I would have planned things. But I'd be lying if I said I never saw this happening. So maybe that's why I've been calm, as you put it. Because even if the circumstances aren't what I expected and there's a lot to figure out fast, the situation itself—I kind of expected. Someday."

"Really? Even… the last couple years?" Maybe if I were less sleepy I would have filtered that question before asking it out loud.

"Did Adam tell you why I broke up with Megan?"

Noah's non-sequitur confuses me. "Yeah. Because she got serious and you weren't looking for that."

"Not quite, although that's probably what I told him. We'd been dating four months or so, we were having fun, I was congratulating myself on finally getting over you, and then she said she loved me and suddenly all I could think about was you. And at the time I thought that meant I wasn't actually done getting over you, and that I shouldn't waste Megan's time. So we broke up. Except as time passed, I realized I was getting— _less_ over you, not more. The problem hadn't been that I didn't want to get serious. The problem was that I still _was_ serious. About you."

"This was—a year ago?" God, we've wasted so much time.

"The breakup was in December. The figuring stuff out took longer."

December. If Noah had actually shown up to family dinner that Christmas, maybe we could have talked instead of me getting stupid drunk with Lee and getting that tattoo. I'm starting to suspect Noah's heard that story. He hasn't said anything, but I've felt his fingers linger over the stars way too often for it to be coincidence. At some point I'll have to ask. "We really are idiots. I'm starting to understand why Lee keeps meddling."

Noah's only response is a low chuckle. There's a lot more we could say about the last two years, but in the end it doesn't matter how much sooner we might have gotten here. Just that we're here now.

"Not that I'm trying to escape the topic of our idiocy or any of the rest of this, but I'm finally sleepy again. We should get back to bed, and keep talking in the morning." I tell Noah as I untangle myself from his arms and rise from the couch.

"What woke you, originally?" Noah asks, following me back to my room.

"No idea. Probably yet another charming side effect of pregnancy. I was hoping not to wake you, though."

"You didn't. I was uncomfortable and woke myself. And then I realized you were gone, and wondered why."

"Are you not enjoying the return to dorm life?" I tease him.

"This terrible and tiny mattress? Yeah, no, this part I hadn't missed."

"Well, you only have two months left to suffer."

"About that—maybe we could just find a place… now. Before next weekend. And never sleep here again."

"Nah. I'd miss Mickey too much. She feeds me, you know. And you'd miss those updates I pretend not to notice she's sending you."

"Mickey is welcome to move in with you. As long as she disappears on weekends. And, well, once I move back."

"You didn't use to whine about twin beds this much. You've gotten alarmingly grouchy in your old age."

"Parenthood. It really ages you."

And that joke should be terrifying, but instead I just laugh.


	30. Dead Serious, Dad

**_A/N: An early update because I plan to post another chapter on Friday! I've gotten several chapters ahead on Wattpad and need to get this account closer to caught up._ **

_**(Noah)** _

Our conversation seems to have calmed Elle and she falls asleep soon after we return to bed, but it's had the opposite effect on me. Elle's right it's normal to be freaked out about all this, and she's also right I've gone too far trying to project confidence. Where Elle doesn't have it entirely right are my motivations. Not wanting Elle to panic is one reason, but I also need  _me_ not to panic, and sometimes that means ignoring the overwhelming details and just telling myself we'll figure it out. At some point all those details will need dealing with, but at three a.m. there's not much I can do besides go down my list and remind myself of the progress made.

Be wherever Elle will be: check. We need to actually go find a place, but at least we're in agreement that we'll be in LA, together. That's one critical question dealt with.

Tell parents they're about to become grandparents: two down, one to go. Of course, the one remaining is the one most likely to react poorly. I put this on the list for morning; I can't expect Mom to keep quiet all week.

Tell friends: in progress. Elle's UCLA friends probably all know, for obvious reasons, and my San Francisco friends know. That leaves the Harvard and high school crowds, at least on my side. I'm not the biggest fan of posting my life online, but what could be simpler and more efficient to get this news out than a picture of Elle captioned "Mine"? Too bad she'd kill me, possibly literally. But Tuppen might still get the news that way. The rest I'll leave up to Elle.

Find a new job: in progress. At worst, I can swallow my pride and ask Dad for help, but I'd rather not resort to that, so I've got a lot more work to do and people to contact.

Figure out what happens once this baby actually shows up: Yeah, probably not the topic to think about if I ever want to get back to sleep. Lee and I were once asked to watch our toddler cousin for an hour. It took ten minutes before we begged Elle to come over and rescue our helpless asses. There, that's the sum total of my experience with babies. Maybe Adam will let me borrow his newest nephew. More importantly, I still don't know what Elle had been planning for herself after graduation, career-wise, and how the baby affects that. There are a lot of conversations we haven't had yet.

And I guess that brings me to the most important item on the list: figure stuff out with Elle. Figure  _us_  out. But the solution there is simple. Not easy, but  _simple_ : talk. Listen. Do it again. And then again. I've gotten the same lecture twice now, from Mike and from Mom, about no longer having the option to hide from each other. I'm sure I'll hear it again from Dad. And I don't disagree, but I didn't need the lecture. Even without this baby, I've learned my lesson; ignoring each other doesn't change our feelings, it just makes us miserable. So there really is only the one option: talk. Listen. Repeat.

But talking will have to wait for morning, so for now I just listen to Elle's slow even breathing and tell myself yet again that we're going to work it out. And that part I'm sure about, even if the details are hazy.

* * *

Elle had made plans to work on a group project Sunday morning before knowing I'd show up this weekend, which leaves me some time for a conversation I've decided not to drag Elle into. Elle and I can have lunch with our families next weekend as planned, but I'm going to break the news to my dad this morning.

He sounds a little surprised I'm calling. Which makes sense, because we're not exactly phone buddies. Mom calls me every weekend and whenever she has something to needle me about, I update her, she tells Dad; that's how this usually works.

"Your mom said you're in LA this weekend. You couldn't have waited until I was home?"

"I'm actually coming back again next weekend. You'll see me then. This visit with Mom was more… spur of the moment."

"Two weekends in a row? Have you suddenly gotten over your aversion to LA?"

He sounds a little suspicious, and I can't help but laugh. "You could say that. Listen, did Mom tell you why we had lunch?" She clearly hasn't told him the important part, or I would have heard from him already, but I'd like to know if she mentioned anything about Elle before I decide how to break the news.

"She did not. But she strongly implied I'd be hearing from you soon. And now here you are, calling. So why don't you tell me what's going on?"

I'd debated a few different ways of doing this before I'd picked up the phone. In the end I decide to just lay it all out there. Dad may not see it the same way, but all of this is good news as far as I'm concerned, so I feel no need to soft-pedal the announcement.

"Elle and I are back together, I'm moving here once the school year's over, and your grandchild's due in July."

There's a very long silence.

"Run that by me again, because I'm sure I can't have heard you correctly."

"Sure. Elle and I are together, I'm moving back to LA, you'll be a grandfather in July."

There's another silence. I shouldn't be enjoying this as much as I am. Elle might not find this entertaining, however, and she doesn't deserve my dad's kneejerk negativity, so I'm glad to be getting this out of the way before family lunch.

Finally he sighs. "I suppose it's too much to hope this is your belated attempt at an April Fool's joke?"

"Dead serious, Dad. I could tell you a third time, if that would help. Or I have some sonogram pictures you might like."

"Noah, July is very soon."

"It is. The very short time between now and July is definitely something I am aware of."

Another long sigh. "So this is why you had lunch with your mother yesterday? To tell her... this?"

"Yes,  _Elle and I_  had lunch with Mom yesterday. To tell her about the  _baby_ we're having. In  _July_. In case you're still working through what I've been telling you. You know, I'm told the traditional response to this kind of news is 'congratulations.'"

"You think this is funny?" Dad's tone is sharp.

"No. I think this is great news and I was hoping you'd agree. But clearly not, so why don't you let me have it for a while and then maybe by the time you see Elle next weekend you can avoid making her cry." The humor is gone from my voice.

"News so great you've been keeping it from us for how long now?"

"Elle and I were still figuring some stuff out. We're telling you now."

"And how long exactly has this been going on, with Elle?"

"Six and a half years."

This time the sigh is of the exasperated variety. "I'm aware of the history. But I don't recall seeing the two of you anywhere near each other the last few years."

"Look, those details are Elle's and my business. What I'm telling you is that we're together now, and that we're having a baby, both of which we're thrilled about." Mom will probably tell him the timeline, but it shouldn't matter.

"So you've finally gone and done it."

I'm half furious at his somber tone and half hilariously amused by his phrasing. Actually, Dad, we'd  _gone and done it_  long, long ago, it's just that we finally hit the odds wrong. I know he means we've finally gone and fulfilled his most feared prospect, of course. Except this isn't actually bad news, and I'm going to need Dad to understand that before I expose Elle to him.

"Look, Dad, I realize this is a shock. I get that. No, Elle and I haven't always told everyone everything going on between us. And yeah, this was a surprise. I'm not going to lie about that. But we're happy about this, and we were hoping you would be too. Mom is. Mike is. And they both also have concerns, obviously, but maybe you too could manage to see the big picture and not just the imperfect details."

Dad doesn't respond, and I decide to just keep going.

"The baby's due July 18 and no, we don't know what it is yet. Elle's doing great, not that you've bothered to ask. Mike knows, Lee knows, Brad knows. We were going to tell you and Mom in person next week, but then I was in town this weekend and didn't want to put it off any longer, and so now I'm telling you, too. I've given notice at work, and I've started looking for a job in LA. I have leads I'm working on, but if you also want me to go talk to your buddies, sure. I realize I'm about to have a lot more responsibility, so I'm not going to rule anything out. Elle graduates in June. You probably knew that already. I have to be in San Francisco through the second week of June, and then I'll be here. We're going to be living together. Don't start asking if we're getting married, we haven't gotten to that conversation yet and we'll get there when it makes sense for us. But we're in this together. And yes, Elle getting pregnant is exactly what you most feared when this all started. To which I will simply point out that it's been  _six years_  and we're not teenagers anymore, so maybe consider the possibility that this isn't actually a disaster. At all. Does that address enough of your concerns for you to be nice to Elle next weekend?"

There's another long pause, and finally I hear Dad laugh a little.

"Did you rehearse that?"

If only eye rolling conveyed better over the phone. "No. I didn't need to."

"Noah, look. You're right. I… got off on the wrong foot here. I'm not going to say I'm happy about this announcement but—I am glad to see this is how you're handling this news. And obviously I'm glad Elle is feeling well, and I'm sorry I didn't start with that."

"Do you think you could manage to work your way up to happy by July?"

"Will I be happy about a grandchild? Of course."

The child responsible for that grandchild, though? Probably a longer road back to Dad's good graces—if I was ever even there to begin with.

"And when you see Elle, you're not going to be a jerk about this?"

"When I see Elle I will treat this like the happy news it is.  _Your_  tone could use some work, though."

"You didn't sound that pleased a minute ago. I'm just making sure you agree Elle deserves a better reaction."

"And ten minutes ago I was still being kept in the dark. So why don't you give me another minute to get used to this little surprise?"

I resist the urge to hang up, and instead we manage to keep talking. One of our more awkward conversations, but I know Dad. He'll come around, he just needs to get mad first, which is why I did this today. Without Elle.

I let Dad lecture me about how serious all this is, and how this means I need to quit playing around and make a real plan for the future. I listen patiently and say "uh huh" at respectful intervals and try not to let him hear me chuckle at the idea that I've been leading some terribly irresponsible life up until now. By the end I can tell he's gotten most of the anger out of his system. The news caught him off guard, I get it—I've been there. I eventually agree to sit down with him next weekend before family lunch to talk about jobs and finances and all the other details he wants to lecture me about, and that seems to satisfy him that he's done enough for today. I tell him to call Mom to get the rest of the story about yesterday, and he manages to sound sincere when he finally tells me he's happy for us and to pass along his best wishes to Elle.

So that's another item off my list.

* * *

I've got a plan by the time Elle returns, and I intercept her as she walks back into the apartment.

"Stop right there. We're going out. We've spent enough time sitting around our apartments these last two weekends, talking, and there's no reason we can't talk outside."

"Will there be food outside? I was hoping it was lunch time soon." Elle looks at me skeptically.

"There will be whatever food you want to lead the way to. I showed you around my neighborhood and school, now it's your turn."

"We could go to that diner you liked, the one near - "

"Nope." I interrupt her. "I don't want to go where  _we_ used to go. I want to know what  _you_ 've been up to. So that years from now when you and Mickey tell your crazy college stories, I'll have some idea what you're talking about."

Elle still looks skeptical. "My hope was to  _not_  expose you to any of that, so when Mickey tells embarrassing stories I'll have plausible deniability."

"I already know Mickey only speaks the truth, at least about you. So you may as well show me around."

I've spent time around UCLA many times before, but it's not the campus I'm curious about, it's Elle's life here. She's been telling me bits and pieces of it these past two weeks, and she'd told me some stories in October, but I want to be able to  _see_  her here, to have a picture in my mind of the last two and a half years.

It had driven me crazy, when I let myself think about Elle, not knowing what she was up to. I'd  _always_  known what she was up to, before. She was always around, first of all, even long before I realized I was paying attention, and then at some point it became more of an intentional thing, keeping an eye on Elle. I may not have been honest with myself about my motivations at first, but I always knew who she was friendly with. When her team would be practicing. What classes she was taking. And, again, she was just always  _around_ , as Lee's much much better other half. I couldn't  _not_ have known what she was up to, even before we got together. And then she was back in LA and I was in Cambridge and for the first time I had no idea what was going on in Elle's life.

Lee was no help. While Elle and I were still arguing, Lee would sometimes talk to me about her, mostly to yell at me. But afterward, the topic became radioactive. I wasn't going to ask, no matter how much I wanted to, and Lee wasn't going to volunteer. Mom wasn't any more helpful, probably because when she did try to talk to me about Elle, early on, I pointedly ignored her. Lee did sometimes drop breadcrumbs, whether out of pity or to torture me. He's the one who told me she was transferring to UCLA, and I'm sure it was no coincidence all the times he just happened to be telling Mom something about Elle while I was within earshot. But if I even approached the subject he glared and told me her number hadn't changed. The fact that it took me two years will probably go down as one of my biggest regrets.

But that's the part of the past I've said we should stop rehashing. The point is, I have no idea where Elle has spent the last two years and I'd like to change that.

And so I let Elle lead me around her campus highlights, telling stories in that giggling mile-a-minute rush of words I'd missed so much. Now I know where she means every time she mentions needing to go to lab, or having a shift at the library, or meeting Mickey at the food trucks.

At some point we find ourselves in front of the athletic center and there's an awkward pause in Elle's stream of chatter. Finally, though, she gives a wry smile.

"And here's where I de-stress when I have something huge weighing on me that I'm not ready to deal with. But sometimes I get lucky and just being at the pool ends up making me deal with it."

I tighten the arm I'd had looped around her and pull her close enough to kiss the top of her head.

"We both got lucky." I see Elle smirk. "Yeah, poor choice of words. Or maybe overly accurate. You know what I meant."

Elle wraps her arms around me and laughs. "Yeah. Now, I was promised lunch. Does lunch have to be outside too, or can we go to my favorite place where they make pancakes with chocolate chips  _and_  raspberries?"

"I have a feeling that's not actually a question and that very bad things would happen if I said no to your pancake plan."

"So there  _are_  brains behind that pretty face."

Enough brains to refrain from commenting when Elle orders not just those chocolate-raspberry pancakes but also a peanut butter milkshake, although not quite enough to resist stealing some of that milkshake while she's distracted. The glare I get when she notices is pure Shelly fury, and damn, I'd missed this. I'd meant for us to talk through more necessary conversations over lunch, but I realize we need  _this_  just as much. This time to act goofy and just enjoy being together. To remember some of the million reasons getting over each other was never going to work. There's so much ahead of us, both to figure out and to look forward to, but for right now I'm going to sit here and enjoy this moment just for its own perfection.

_**A/N: It's a two-chapter week... I've been posting just slightly more often than weekly over at Wattpad, so I'm trying to get closer to caught up here. Chapter 31 should be up on Friday.** _


	31. Confidantes & Conversations

_**A/N: This was a two-update week - I posted Chapter 30 on Tuesday, in case anyone is just checking in once a week and going straight to the last chapter.** _

**Sunday** _**(Elle)** _

I'm sitting on the couch with my laptop when I see the door open and hear Mickey yell from behind it.

"I'M HOME. EVERYONE PUT CLOTHES ON."

I snort. "You're safe, Mickey. Nobody's naked."

"Well, that's disappointing. Why did I even bother leaving you the apartment all weekend if nobody got naked?"

"Oh, don't worry. Your sacrifice was greatly appreciated and very much taken advantage of. But Noah left for the airport an hour ago."

Mickey sets down her bags and roots through one of the kitchen cupboards.

"Do you want anything from the kitchen?"

"I don't know… maybe those cookies you lied to me about?"

"Yeah, I'm sure you were terribly disappointed." Mickey comments dryly as she plops down next to me on the couch with a bag of pretzels. "Soooooo?"

"Sooooooo, what?" I'm concentrating very hard on my laptop screen to avoid meeting her eyes.

"Oh, _come on_. I put up with all your moping last week, I aided and abetted Noah's surprise appearance, and then I disappeared the entire weekend. I'm owed some details."

"There will be no details, Mickey." I'm struggling to keep a blank expression.

"You're no fun. Fine, I'll just have to draw my own conclusions from any change to your grumpiness levels."

"I'm not at all grumpy."

"Yeah, I bet."

I finally give in to the laughter I'd been holding back. "Seriously, Mickey, what do you want me to say? I already told you, your absence was appreciated and made the most of."

"Fine, I don't actually want _those_ details. But how was… everything else?"

"Noah set up a surprise lunch with June, so now she knows. And then Noah told his dad. So that was all kind of major."

"Let me guess—June was thrilled, Matthew less so."

Mickey came with me to a family lunch once. June loved her to pieces, while Matthew spent a solid ten minutes grilling her about whether trying to make it as an actress was a reasonable plan for after graduation.

"Pretty much. I wasn't there for the Matthew conversation, but—argh, _why_ are you looking at me like that?" Mickey is smirking.

"I kind of already knew you'd told June. She texted me this morning wanting to know what the baby shower plans were. And telling me to make sure you got more sleep because you looked tired."

" _Seriously_? How does she have your number? And is there any Flynn left you're not talking about me to?"

"I promise I'm not talking to Matthew. And June's had my number since that lunch."

"We had an agreement, Mickey. No going behind my back."

"You're going to need to talk to Lee and June about that. They're the ones who've been contacting me. And anyway, I always tell you about it. Like right now."

"I see you left Noah out of that defense of your meddling."

"Oh yeah, _those_ communications you can blame me for. I'll stop if you really want me to, but it's mostly just me sending him pictures so he doesn't miss out on how cute you look right now."

"I love how you qualify that—how cute I look _right now_. Because soon I'm just going to look like a pumpkin with legs."

"Somehow I suspect he'll think you're the cutest pumpkin with legs ever. Anyway, June's over the moon and if you _don't_ want the world's girliest baby shower you need to tell me right now so I can rein her in before she goes off the rails."

" _I_ don't want a crazy baby shower, but I'm kind of June's only chance at this. I don't think any of us could rein her in."

"Ok, but don't blame me if there are ice sculptures and miniature ponies involved."

"Now I'll be sad if there _aren't_ miniature ponies."

"Don't say I didn't warn you. So, what about Matthew?"

I grimace slightly. "I was spared that conversation. But it sounds like Noah let him get enough lecturing out of his system to feel like he's adequately conveyed his disapproval. Although, I'm probably not Matthew's favorite person right now."

"Really? He seemed to like you fine at lunch."

"Matthew likes me better when I'm not dating Noah. Now I'm back to being a distraction from whatever it is Matthew thinks Noah should be doing. Plus I'm saddling him with a baby."

"That makes zero sense."

"Oh, it absolutely doesn't. I mean, I wasn't even dating Noah when he decided to teach for a while instead of whatever his dad wanted him to do. Anyway, he'll get over it. It's just how he is. Lee can enjoy being the favorite for a while."

"Ok, so, weird dad issues aside, you've told the Flynns. Now what?"

"A _really_ awkward family lunch next week. Can we bring you for moral support?"

"No can do, I'm afraid. I'm gone next weekend. Which does mean you'll have the apartment to yourself again…"

I laugh. "I'll tell Noah the good news. Although apparently it's hard to readjust to undergrad housing, and especially twin beds, after two years in the real world." Mickey is smirking at me again. "He was trying to convince me to find a place immediately, but I told him I'd miss you too much."

"You'd miss my baking too much, you mean."

"Not only! … also all your other cooking. And, you know, you."

"And wait—you guys talked about moving in? Did you just forget to mention this when I asked how the weekend was?"

"June asked what Noah's plans were, for moving here, and he was being so careful about saying we'd figure that out later, and sneaking looks at me like I might bolt if he said the wrong thing… so I brought it up, later."

Mickey's already heard my whole messy feelings about living arrangements and wanting us to be together even if it also scares the crap out of me to admit it.

"And?"

"That's what he wants, too. If I want to."

"Duh. Any other momentous decisions you've forgotten to tell me about?"

"Not really. I mean, we talked a lot. And I might have yelled at him a little bit for never admitting any of this is scary."

"Good."

Mickey's phone suddenly erupts with message alerts, and I'm grateful for the interruption. I don't know yet if I want to tell her more about that conversation. Having her to confide in has been such a relief, but some of this is just for us, now.

Mickey goes off to deal with whatever drama those messages are about and I try to get back to work, but I can't stop thinking about what she said about June. It's not that it's surprising, when I think about it, that June would want to throw me a baby shower, it's that I _hadn't_ thought about it, yet. And as much as I'd missed June these last couple months, not seeing her made it easier not to think about who else I should have been sharing these milestones with. Mom. But maybe it's time to start talking about all that. I send June a message asking if we can have dinner this week, and not a minute later I've got her reply. _Of course._

Later that night, on the phone with Noah, I thank him again for setting up that lunch.

* * *

**Monday** _**(Noah)** _

Adam drops himself at my table with a smug grin on Monday, interrupting what had been a quiet lunch.

"We missed you at Friday happy hour. And at Gwen's party on Saturday. But I suspect I know why. Care to share?"

"If you already know, I don't need to share."

"Ah, but I was promised insider information in exchange for my role in your charade."

" _Charade_ might be too ridiculous a word for it."

"Regardless, I want details. You went to see her, didn't you?"

"Are you surprised?"

"No, relieved. You were embarrassingly mopey. How is she?"

"She's good." I'm trying not to encourage Adam's interrogation, but I can't help smiling.

"And you?"

"And me what?"

Adam huffs in exasperation. "You and this whole saga, smartass. How are you doing with it? I'm going to make you talk, you realize. I can be _really_ persistent."

"I'm doing fine with this. _You_ need your own life."

"Nope. You're not getting away with _fine_. And I do have my own life, thank you very much, it's just less interesting than yours at the moment, and you know how I love the drama. And Elle. I really like Elle. Maybe I should just call Elle rather than dealing with you."

"She'd love that. Go ahead."

"But she's not here _right now_. So I'm still going to need you to entertain me for this lunch hour."

"Fine. I went to visit Elle. We told my mom about the baby. I told my dad. Elle informed me that we're moving in together, which was surprising but not exactly unwelcome. There, now you're all caught up on my weekend. Can I go back to eating in peace?"

"Are you kidding me? There's like an entire lunch hour's worth of details I'm going to need about each of those developments. Let's see… I haven't met your parents, but I can't see how they could not love Elle, so I'm going with—happy about this news?"

"Elle's mom was my mom's best friend. She'd be thrilled about Elle having a baby even if it weren't also her grandchild. Not to mention Mom probably thinks it puts us one step closer to the wedding she's been planning for even longer than we've been together, although thankfully she hasn't brought that up yet."

"Okay, hold that thought, because we're definitely going to discuss _that_ detail. But what about your dad? Does he not share your mom's feelings?"

I chuckle darkly. "My dad is going to need some time to work through yet another round of frustration at my hopelessly irresponsible lifestyle."

" _You_ have a hopelessly irresponsible lifestyle? Are there more secrets you're keeping? Is teaching a front for your drug dealing operation?"

"Oh, you're well aware of this lifestyle. You see, Dad considers _this_ "—I gesture broadly at our surroundings—"to be a highly unprofitable use of my time. So I'm already a major source of disappointment to him. Getting Elle pregnant just confirms he was right all those years ago about our relationship being a bad idea."

"Weren't you in high school then?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't it seem like this happening now might be a little different than in high school?"

"To most people? Sure. But Dad won't let that detail get in the way of concluding I've lived up to his direst predictions."

"You don't seem overly concerned."

"Like I said, his frustrations with me aren't new. I'm used to it. Ironically, he'll probably end up glad Elle got pregnant if it means me getting a job he approves of."

"And is that going to happen?"

"We'll see. I'm working on some leads."

"In LA? I heard you officially resigned."

"Yeah. Although you really need to stop charming Elle, because I'm pretty sure wanting to hang out with you is why she was arguing for San Francisco."

"Feeling threatened?" Adam grins.

"I accepted years ago that Elle collects guy friends. You at least can be trusted not to leer at her."

"Fair. I mean, she's cute, but so hopelessly… female. And Elle's decided you're living together?"

"Apparently."

"Maybe if you're patient enough she'll inform you you're getting married."

I roll my eyes at him. "It's been two weeks. _You_ need some patience."

"Two weeks plus, you know, that whole epic story you told me."

"If you'd paid attention, you'd realize why now is not the time."

"Ugh, fine. But don't try to pretend like that's not your endgame."

"My endgame is to be with Elle."

"Sure, I get it. You're going to camp out outside her window with your boombox until she figures it out for herself."

"You have the weirdest movie obsessions."

"Older sisters, man. And Lloyd Dobler is _iconic_."

"Are we done now? Can I go back to eating in peace?"

"You wish. We're just getting started."

* * *

**Wednesday** _**(Elle)** _

I've made it halfway through the week and now I need some bestie time. Lee picks up on the first ring.

"Is it just you this time, or is Noah lurking shirtless again?"

"You know, normal people say 'hello' when they answer their phone."

"Yeah, well, I needed to make sure I was only saying hello to you. These days I can't be sure."

"Just me. It's the middle of the week, why would he be here?"

"Right. Like Noah deciding to quit and just follow you around would be so out of character."

"It actually would be, and you know it. Are we going to have to repeat your whole interminable process of getting used to us dating, or can we skip ahead to when you don't spend half our conversations making wisecracks about Noah?"

"Ugh. Fine. It's just I _really_ enjoy mocking him, and it's been a long time since you let me."

"I'm sorry our breakup limited your comedic options." I say after an awkward pause.

"Okay, I just realized how bad that sounded. Maybe you could hang up, call me back, and I'll take another stab at not being a jerk."

"Or I'll just move on. Anyway, we said we were going to talk about _your_ drama this week."

"But you guys are good, right? Still… figuring stuff out? I'm trying to stay out of it, but you'd tell me if you needed to talk, right?"

"Yeah, we're good. And I'll tell you if I need to drag you into it."

We _are_ good, Noah and I. He's kept going with last week's stream of distracting messages throughout the day, and then I call him before going to bed. It reminds me of our days in Boston, except now there's four hundred miles between us on weekdays instead of just the Charles. But not for long, I remind myself.

"And you're doing okay? With the knocked-up thing?"

"Except for you calling it that, yes. I'm serious Lee, I want to talk about something other than me and my absurd life for once. Literally anything else."

"Anything? Even my thesis?"

"Sure, even that." Lee's master's thesis is about some arcane computer cryptography thing and usually I only ask about it if I need help falling asleep.

"Except I just spent twenty hours on it this weekend, so that's actually the last thing I want to talk about."

"Fine, then tell me how things are going with your old lady."

Lee's latest girlfriend is a law student a couple years older than us, something I never tire of teasing him about.

" _Jenna_. Her name is _Jenna_. And she's older than me by barely more than Noah is you, so check your sexist attitudes, please."

"Yeah, and I call Noah old, too. Anyway, do I ever get to meet her?"

"Maybe? I don't know that we're quite at the fly-home-to-meet-the-family point yet."

"Won't your parents meet her at graduation? Wait— _I_ could meet her at graduation!" I realize.

I haven't been back to Boston at all since Dad's accident, and earlier this year I'd planned on avoiding Lee's graduation since Noah was sure to be there. But now there's nothing stopping me, and the idea thrills me.

"Uh, Elle?"

"Yes?"

"Aren't you going to be really pregnant by then? Like _really_ pregnant?"

"The last weekend in May, right? I'll be… let me look at a calendar. Ok, thirty-three weeks. That's, like, almost two months to go. I bet that's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"No, but I'll find out. And I really want to be there."

"I know I'm not supposed to comment on you and Noah, but I'm guessing he's going to have opinions on this."

"I said I'd ask my doctor! And since when have I let Noah tell me what to do?"

"He might get a _little_ bit of a vote when it involves his kid. … Wow, saying that feels weird."

"You think that feels weird? I'm the one who has to look down every morning and realize holy crap, it wasn't a crazy dream, I'm actually pregnant. But come on, I've gotta be at your graduation."

"You know, when you guys still weren't talking, I was going to tell Noah not to come. So you'd be willing to come."

Suddenly I'm tearing up. Lee is the absolute best and too often I forget how hard all this was for him, too.

"Elle?"

I guess he can hear me sniffling.

"That would have been... really really sweet of you. But we should never have put you in that position. Except we did. Over and over."

"Bygones. Just don't do it again. Elle, seriously, you know I can't deal with the crying. And now you'll both be there, right? Which is even better."

And I'm crying even harder now, because that _will_ be even better. Being back in Boston with both Lee and Noah—I had no idea how desperately I wanted that until just now.

"Elle?"

"I'm almost done crying, I promise. Okay, _we're doing this_. I'm coming to your graduation and I'll yell crazy things when they call your name and we'll go to all our old favorite places. Tosci's and Flour and Mike's and the place in your student center with the burritos the size of my head that are so not authentic but that I love anyway."

"Ah, the Elle Evans tour of Boston and Cambridge, featuring nothing but food."

I actually have a few other favorites in mind to revisit, but Lee is very much not invited to the _illicitly-accessed roof terraces and secluded park benches_ portion of the tour.

Lee and I eventually get back to talking about Jenna, but as much as I want to pay attention, I just can't stop thinking about going back to Boston. Not just to hang out with Lee. Not just to revisit romantic favorites with Noah. I left in such a rush and never got to say goodbye, and maybe now it's finally time for that.

_**A/N: might do another quick update Tuesday to keep catching up to my Wattpad account, which is currently a few chapters ahead. Link in profile if you want a sneak peek...** _


	32. Friday Adventures

_**A/N: I posted two chapters last week instead of one - just a heads-up if you're like me and automatically go to the most recent chapter...** _

_**(Elle)** _

I check my answers one last time before handing the exam book to the proctor with a sigh of relief—it's been a long week, capped off by a Friday morning midterm. Finally, though, I can relax and look forward to the weekend, including Noah's arrival tonight.

The weather was already glorious when I walked to class this morning and looks to have only improved, the sun blinding me as I step outside and reach for my phone. I blink and shade my eyes so I can see my screen, and that's when I notice. The familiar profile. The relaxed sprawl against the bench. And then, the grin spreading across his face as he sees me spot him. It's Noah, waiting for me after my last class of the week. And of course he is, because that's just what he does. Or at least, what he did, way back when, even if it makes absolutely no sense how he's doing it now. He stands as I approach and that's when I notice that his attire has definitely improved since our last Friday lunch date. He's in a crisp navy suit that I'm certain cost more than anything I own, or even any five outfits of mine, and damn, if he has to wear clothes at all, this might be my new favorite.

"It's noon, Noah. Your flight gets in at nine tonight. What are you  _doing_  here?"

"Change of plans, and I thought you might like some lunch. Or are you going to tell me to come back later because you have better plans for the afternoon?" He smirks at me.

"I seem to be underdressed for whatever it is you've got planned. I mean, I definitely approve of this surprise appearance habit of yours, but you've got to start giving me a heads-up so I'm not always looking like a slob next to you."

"Oh,  _this_  isn't for you." Noah deadpans.

"Gee, thanks. So who's your other date, the one that does merit the suit?"

"Natalie."

"Natalie. Really. Do I need to take back what I said last weekend about liking her?"

Noah grins, unable to maintain his serious face. "Well, maybe more like Natalie's bosses merited the suit. And you definitely shouldn't take it back, because I think you're about to like her even more. She's so eager to get me back to LA so she can get the rest of the gossip on you that she landed me an interview this morning."

"And you didn't  _tell_  me?" I squeal.

"I had to fly in late, and I knew you had that midterm this morning. Figured it was in both our interests to get some sleep last night, so I stayed at the house. Come on, do you want lunch or not?"

"You know I  _always_  want lunch. Do I get a vote where, or did Mickey give you a list of my favorite restaurants along with that class schedule and map of how to find me on campus she must have provided?"

"You lead the way. I would  _never_  dare tell you what to do."

"Oh, good, so that finally sunk in. Only took six and a half years." I grumble. "Wait—are you all done? With the interview stuff? You don't have to go back this afternoon or anything?"

"Nope. It was just a first round—if those people liked me, they'll bring me back to interview with more of the team. But I'm all yours for the rest of today."

"Because I do actually have plans this afternoon. That you could join me for."

"I know," he smiles. "Why do you think I picked today when they asked if I'd rather interview this week or next?"

I've got a prenatal appointment today. Which means Noah and I can find out, together, what we're having, no notes in sealed envelopes needed. And maybe Noah can even get to see Dino. Which is probably why he's giving me that triumphant grin. "Best Friday surprise ever," I mutter as I wrap my arms around him.

* * *

We head to my favorite food truck and then find a shady bench to sit on. Noah watches with mild alarm as I take a small bottle of Tabasco from my bag and douse my fries, but he wisely chooses not to comment. And, added bonus, for once he's not stealing my fries.

Noah fills me in on his interview as we eat, but I'm having trouble paying attention. I can't believe we're finally going to know. Mickey keeps asking me if I can just, like,  _sense_ what it is, but the truth is I have no idea at all. Sometimes Dino feels like an extension of me, and then I picture a girl. But then when I'm thinking of Noah, or talking to him, I picture a tiny version of him, a boy with his dark eyes and dimples. But I can't say that I have any actual intuition who or what Dino is, other than the fact that he or she loves peanut butter, Tabasco, and kicking me.

"We  _are_  finding out today, right?" I suddenly interrupt Noah. "You haven't suddenly decided you want to wait and be surprised?"

"We've had enough surprises, don't you think?" Noah laughs.

"I don't know, you seem to be fond of showing up unexpectedly."

"That's different. But yes, of course we're finding out."

"I'm suddenly very nervous. Like super, super nervous." I admit.

"So you  _do_ have a preference?" We've had this conversation a few times.

"No, I still can't decide what I'd pick if I could. But once we know, Dino will be that much closer to real."

"And more importantly, never, ever to be referred to by that name again." Noah adds, putting on his most serious expression.

"You wish. You think we're going to agree on a real name that fast? Shouldn't we, like, meet the kid before we decide? And Adam says even if we do decide, we shouldn't tell anyone because people always feel compelled to tell you all their stupid reactions to any name you tell them, and then you start hating the name before the kid's even here. So we'll still need a fake name."

"Well, if  _Adam_  says…" Noah rolls his eyes at me. Adam's my new buddy, and Noah is begrudgingly learning to accept it. Don't have awesome friends if you don't want me to steal them, pal.

"Do  _you_  know anyone else who knows anything about babies? Because I don't. Other than our parents."

"Don't you remember Brad being a baby?"

"I remember that he was very loud and that I spent a lot of time at your house that year."

"Right. This all bodes really well. Neither of us knows anything about babies and you're taking advice from Adam, a guy who eats cold Spaghetti-O's straight out of the can and flooded his apartment using dish detergent in the washing machine."

"He babysits his nieces and nephews all the time. Clearly his sisters think he knows something about kids."

"Or they're just desperate for free babysitting. Anyway, enough about Adam. When exactly is this appointment?"

"At two. We don't need to leave quite yet."

"Out of curiosity, what have you told them?"

"Told who about what?"

"Your doctor, about me—is there a cover story I need to know? Do they think I'm a deadbeat? Or have we been together this whole time and I just haven't been able to make it to appointments?"

"Oh. Pretty much the truth. She had questions about you I couldn't answer, so I kind of had to admit we weren't talking and you didn't know yet."

"What about me do you  _not_ know?"

"Your blood type. Apparently that's relevant. And family medical history stuff."

"My mom could have told you."

I stare at him. "Because  _that_  wouldn't have been suspicious? 'Hey, June, what's Noah's blood type and are there are any inheritable diseases in your family? Oh, no reason. Definitely not secretly knocked up or anything.'"

"Yeah, I realized how dumb that was once I said it."

"Anyway, I did tell my doctor I was planning to tell you, so I'm sure she'll be happy to see you there today. But there's no cover story you need to stick to. Just the truth."

"Are we waiting until Sunday's lunch to tell our parents, or are you going to be on the phone with my mom the minute we find out?"

Noah knows June and I have been on the phone all week. It's like once the news was finally out I had months of pent-up talking to release. We had a long dinner on Tuesday, just the two of us. I haven't told her everything yet, but just being able to talk to June without the subject of Noah looming unspoken between us is such a relief. We've stuck to discussing the pregnancy so far, June peppering me with questions about how I'm feeling and wistful anecdotes about her own pregnancies and reminders to drink more water and get more sleep. If it were anyone else it would be driving me nuts, but… it's June. At some point I'll probably finally tell her about the breakup, about October, about everything, but not yet.

"I don't know. Telling everyone all together on Sunday seems better, no? But I'm not sure I can keep my mouth shut that long. Although, clearly your mom has been doing her own secret-keeping, if you stayed there last night. Did she know you were showing up? Because we talked yesterday and she didn't say a word."

"She knew, and she knew I wanted to surprise you. And not distract you before your midterm."

"Oh dear god. I just remembered the message she sent me this morning. Noah, she said  _Have fun_  with a winky face and I thought she was joking about the midterm, but now it all makes sense. Oh my god, she needs to not send messages like that. It's just wrong."

"Elle, I hate to break it to you, but my mom is aware of the nature of our relationship."

"Of course she is, but she's not supposed to  _acknowledge_  it. Let alone send me winky faces."

"Didn't you two spend an entire dinner this week talking about you being pregnant? Which kind of implies - "

"It's not like we were talking about how I  _got_  pregnant! Wait, what are you doing?"

Noah has pulled out his phone and is tapping away.

"Dear Mom," he reads aloud as he writes. "Please don't send Elle any more emoji in any way acknowledging the fact that I have seen her naked. Love, your favorite son and provider of a grandchild that was most definitely not immaculately conceived." He looks up at me with his best innocent smile. "Good?"

"You wouldn't."

Noah turns his phone just enough for me to see him hit  _Send_.

"Noah!"

He cracks up. "Relax, Elle. You think I actually wrote all that out that fast? I was just telling her I'd managed to catch you after your midterm."

"You shouldn't mess with me like that. It's not good for Dino when you spike my blood pressure."

"Is putting half a bottle of Tabasco on your lunch good for Dino?"

"Who do you think wanted all that Tabasco? But you're right, now I need something to counteract all that hot sauce. Come on, we have just enough time for you to buy me a milkshake before my appointment."

* * *

Dr. Kim looks surprised when she walks in and sees Noah, but she quickly smiles and holds her hand out.

"Dr. Agnes Kim. And you must be - "

"Noah Flynn. Elle's, ah, boyfriend." Dr. Kim is shorter than I am, and yet Noah is visibly cringing under her hawk-eyed stare.

She's looking at me now, one eyebrow raised, and I quickly realize why.

"Boyfriend and baby daddy." I add.

"I never assume." Dr. Kim says pointedly. "In that case, I've got forms for you, Noah. But first, congratulations. Is this your first, too?"

Noah laughs nervously, looking surprised by the question. "Of course."

"Again—I never assume. You'd be amazed what people don't mention if you don't ask."

Like me not mentioning this baby to Noah for months? But I don't actually think Dr. Kim was making any kind of statement about us. She does probably see all kinds of interesting drama.

"Noah is the one I've been telling you about, Dr. Kim. I finally told him. And I was hoping you could check the ultrasound report from before and tell us if it's a boy or a girl. I'm ready to know, now."

"I can do better than that. Would you like to get a look at this baby, Noah?"

His eyes light up, and I feel a pang of guilt that he hasn't yet had that opportunity. "Of course. If we can—Elle wasn't sure if there would be a scan at this visit."

"Oh, this definitely seems like a good enough reason. How about this—you work on these health history forms while Elle and I get through all the boring parts of the checkup, and then we'll see what this baby's up to. Sound good?"

* * *

Dr. Kim squirts ultrasound gel on my belly and starts sliding the transducer around, trying to track down Dino.

"Any guesses before I tell you?"

"Noah is afraid karma's going to catch up to him and he's going to have to raise a miniature version of himself, so he's rooting for a girl," I tell Dr. Kim as Noah rolls his eyes.

"Well, as the mother of two teenage girls, I'm not so sure they're any easier. But you'll be finding that out for yourself, because this baby is indeed a girl. A girl who seems to be intent on mooning us instead of letting us see her face. Aha, here we go."

What had been a mess of gray blurs suddenly sharpens and a face appears, and then Dr. Kim flips a switch and the rapid drum of a heartbeat fills the room.

The difference since the last scan is so striking that I forget to look at Noah, distracted by the sight of  _her_ , so impossibly perfect. She's got a hand curled up by her mouth and the other pressed against her ear, and she looks so  _real_.

"Damn." The word falls from Noah's lips so quietly I almost miss it. I turn back to look at him and I have to catch my breath at the sight of his stunned expression. He looks entranced and bewildered, like he can't quite believe his eyes but desperately wants to.

"She sleeps like you." He finally says.

" _What_?"

"With her hands up by her face. Just like you."

Dr. Kim is watching us with a knowing smile. "She's sucking her thumb, actually."

"See! That is  _not_ how I sleep. I do  _not_ suck my thumb."

"Ok, not that part. But that  _is_ how you sleep, Shell. Trust me, I've watched you enough."

"I'm not so sure she's sleeping. She was flipping around just a minute ago." Dr. Kim points out. "Here, want to see if you can get a reaction from her? Try pressing right about  _here_."

Noah gives a tentative push with the tips of his fingers at the spot Dr. Kim indicated, and the hand that had been curled at Dino's ear suddenly flies forward, jabbing back at him, followed by the second hand. Noah pulls his hand away, startled.

"I think she just punched you. Noah, did you just start a fight with a baby and  _lose_?"

I don't think I've ever seen Noah so thrilled to lose a fight.


	33. Landmark Dates

_**A/N: I updated twice this week and last in order to get caught up with my Wattpad account. It should be back to weekly Friday updates after this.** _

 

_**(Noah)** _

"Damn." You'd think I could come up with a more articulate reaction, but apparently the eloquent parts of my brain are too busy staring slack-jawed at the ultrasound image. It shouldn't be so shocking. It's not like I haven't spent the better part of three weeks thinking about this baby, feeling it kick, and trying to make sense of the ultrasound pictures Elle sent. But actually seeing it—seeing  _her_ —in real time, hearing her heartbeat while watching her sleep, is another experience entirely. Or not sleep, apparently. She certainly looks exactly like a sleeping Shelly, her eyes closed and her hands all up in her face, but Dr. Kim was right that she reacted immediately when I prodded at her. Although, I'm not so sure that means she isn't sleeping. That's certainly how Elle would react if I so rudely bothered her during a nap.

I can hear Elle teasing me about losing a fight to a baby, but I don't care. I reach for Dino again and give another gentle push, but this time I keep my hand steady as her fists fly at me again. It's a good thing Elle's watching the screen and not me, because there's only so wide I can open my eyes to hold back these ridiculous tears. I press my luck and prod Dino a third time, and I guess now she's mad because her face turns away and disappears from the screen while I feel a distinct flipping motion under my fingers. And while she'll deny it if I say it, that's another classic Shelly move, the disgruntled roll away when she's not ready to wake up.

Dr. Kim tracks Dino down again, and she takes a few pictures for us to keep as she and Elle talk about when to make the next appointment. The details of their conversation are lost to me as I stare at the screen and try to make sense of it all. A girl. Mom will be thrilled. Elle's jokes about karma aside, I don't think I actually had a preference, but I certainly don't hate the idea of a tiny Elle, even if it means I'm going to need to learn to coach soccer.

* * *

I'd driven one of Dad's cars to my interview and then to campus to find Elle, and inspiration strikes as we get back into it after leaving Dr. Kim's office.

"Think you can manage a little bit of a drive and a hike?" I ask Elle.

"Can  _you_?" Elle asks, eyeing my suit.

"After a stop at your place to change."

"A stop at my place to change and to get a snack?"

I roll my eyes. "Sure."

"A hike where, exactly?"

I smile at her. "Today seems kind of important."

Elle's expression instantly shifts from skeptical to soft as she realizes what I mean. "Yeah, it does."

We've returned to the Hollywood sign more than a few times. The night before I left for Harvard. When Elle got into BU and we knew we'd be reunited. On our way back from the beach house after ending our ridiculous summer breakup. All kinds of anniversaries. Today seems like one of those milestone days.

* * *

Elle has decided we're making a whole evening of this, and she's got a picnic dinner packed for us by the time I've changed into something more comfortable. She catches me smirking as I watch her add a blanket to the bag, and she glares at me from across the room.

"Don't go getting any ideas. This is for sitting on while we eat.  _Fully clothed_."

"I recall  _you_  usually being the one who needs that admonishment. And anyway, my  _ideas_ , as you call them, were of a more immediate nature."

I know the hike was my suggestion, and I'm definitely still planning on it. But we've got the apartment to ourselves and years apart to make up for, so...

"But you just got dressed."

"An easily remedied error."

We don't end up making it to the Hollywood sign until just before sunset.

* * *

It's been a long time since we've come here, and I can't say that back then I'd have predicted  _this_ would the next milestone we'd celebrate here. And yet, here we are, making absolutely no progress on the baby naming front. I managed to suggest four video game characters' names until Elle caught on to what I was doing, and now she's retaliating with the strangest names she can think up. Or at least I hope that's what she's doing, because if these are serious suggestions we've got some arguments ahead of us.

"If you keep saying no to all my ideas, you realize she's just going to end up named Dino for real, right?" Elle threatens.

"Dinah."

"What?"

"I'm slowly understanding that we're not going to agree on a real name anytime soon, but could we at least make her fake name sound a little more... girly?"

"But I like Dino." Elle pouts.

"Did she look much like a dinosaur to you today?"

"No," she admits with a smile. "Fine. I'll try and call her Dinah from now on. But no promises I can get Mickey to switch."

Elle had been in fine cheery form when we got here, but she gets quieter as we finish our picnic and night falls fully. She's leaning against me, her head on my shoulder, and I'm about to ask what's got her preoccupied when she starts talking.

"I came here a few times. After we broke up. During the day, between visiting Dad and needing to pick Brad up from school."

I'm not sure what to say, so I wait to see if there's more she wants to tell me.

"It was nice just to sit here alone. I could see why you used to come here to get away. Although it wasn't as quiet, during the day, with other people around."

"That's why I always came here at night."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't going to wander here alone in the dark." She's silent for a minute, then continues. "I did come here once at night. My first semester at UCLA, I'd just met Mickey and a bunch of her crowd, and someone's high school friend was visiting and wanted to do the whole LA tourist thing. Which was a lot of fun, until we ended up here."

"So that's when you told them about the runaway jackass?"

" _What?_ " Elle raises her head to stare at me.

I give her a half-smile. "Mickey may have mentioned that nickname. Well, more like apologized for it."

Elle winces. "It's possible I didn't tell Mickey the most unbiased version of our breakup, at first. Although I swear I never called you that. That's just what she'd say when she thought I was brooding and needed to snap out of it."

"Don't worry about it. So that's when you told Mickey, that night up here?"

"Oh, no, I told her much later. That night I just drank way too much and talked very loudly about how corny and cliched tourists get about the Hollywood sign. I mean, I barely knew any of them yet. I wasn't going to start telling strangers any of... this." Elle pauses. "Did you ever... come back here?"

"Once. The night I got back after graduation. I'd gone for a drive around the neighborhood and seen your light on in your house, but I couldn't make up my mind what to do about it, so I just kept on driving, and ended up here."

Elle sighs. "I'm sorry I didn't come to your graduation party. I was going to, and then I just—chickened out. And I figured it would be better to come by another day, when there weren't a million people around."

"Except I didn't give you the chance." The morning after the party I packed up and drove to San Francisco.

We're both quiet for a while after that. We can't not acknowledge this history, but knowing we need to doesn't make it any easier.

"How do we know we're not going to screw this up again?" Elle finally asks.

"We don't."

Elle looks at me uneasily.

"I didn't mean that as pessimism. I just mean—we can't  _know_  we won't screw up. No one can. But we know we don't want to. And we know how miserable we made ourselves being apart. And, hopefully, we learned  _something_  from our mistakes. So we just have to... trust in all that."

"I guess. Plus, we're going to have a lot of people yelling at us if we try to stop talking, this time." Elle comments wryly.

"I see you got that lecture too?" I chuckle.

"Yeah, from my dad. And Lee. And your mom didn't phrase it quite as aggressively, but, yeah, from her too."

"My dad's version was particularly delightful. It's too bad you missed out on that one."

"There's always family lunch." Elle jokes, although there's nervousness behind her smile.

"I mean, they  _are_ right. We don't really get to be idiots now that we've put this kid in the middle of it."

Elle sighs. "I don't want to think of it that way. I want us to get it right for us, not just because we're... stuck."

"We're not  _stuck_. And of course we want to get this right for us. But extra incentive doesn't hurt."

Elle is twisting restlessly at a strand of her hair, coiling and uncoiling it, and finally she sits up, pulling away from my side.

"It just  _feels_  like I've trapped you."

I start to respond, but Elle barrels on. "No, just let me say this. I  _know_  we both did this, but, still. You quitting, and moving here, and everything. I know it doesn't make sense, I know it's not what you think, but it's just how I  _feel_  sometimes. That I've dumped all this on you and made you change your life overnight."

"Shell, I can keep telling you there's no part of these changes I don't welcome, but that's not what we should be talking about."

"What do you mean?"

"What about you?" I ask, trying to get her to look at me.

"Me?"

"What are  _you_ giving up? I've tried to ask, but you never really answer. You had all these plans for grad school, before—when we were in Boston. I hate to think you're having to put all that on hold. You keep worrying about what I'm giving up, but what about you?"

"I... I don't know. I'm not really giving anything up because I hadn't really made any plans." Elle picks at a loose thread in the blanket, looking away again. "And not just because of the baby. I'd already decided not to apply to grad school this year. I still think I want to, someday, but this winter I just wasn't ready to make all those decisions. I figured I'd get a job—work in a lab, or for a consulting firm, or something, for a couple years, and then decide. And then I found out I was pregnant, and that kind of... derailed all the planning. So I have nothing planned. Which probably sounds horribly irresponsible."

"It doesn't. You're due right after graduation. It's not like you'd have much time to start anything before this baby shows up. But this is what I mean—you keep guilting yourself about me when  _you're_  the one having to put things on hold. For your dad, and now for this baby."

"I guess. I'm just not even sure what it is I'm putting on hold. But you're right, I have to do  _something_. I can't keep putting off thinking about jobs."

"Shell, that's not what I meant. You don't  _have_  to do anything, and especially not right now. But when you do figure out what you  _want_ to do, I want you to actually get to do it. Even if we need to move for you to go to grad school, or whatever it is you want to do. We'll make it work. That's what I meant. That I don't want you putting off your dreams. You've done that too much already."

"Grad school? With a baby?"

"Why not? If it's what you want."

"And you'd just... quit your job and move again?"

"Yeah."

At some point Elle and I need to actually talk about the trust fund she likes to pretend doesn't exist, but for now I'm more worried about her reaction to my having once again offered to follow her. I'm not going to stop offering, but I'm hoping she'll finally stop fighting me on it.

She's still picking at that loose thread, slowly fraying the edge of the blanket, focused on her task. But lost in thought is a better reaction than panic, I tell myself.

"Okay." She finally says.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. I mean, not right now. Because I really don't have any idea what I want to do next. But when I do figure it out, I'll take you up on that."

Maybe, just maybe, we actually are learning from our mistakes.

* * *

**Saturday morning**

Elle and I had talked about starting to look for a place to live this weekend, but we don't seem to have any particular interest in actually leaving her apartment this morning; we only get as far as finishing breakfast before Elle makes some very convincing arguments for returning to bed. Then again, that dorm-sized bed of hers might be also be our best motivation for finding a place as soon as possible, somewhere we can furnish with real, less frustratingly tiny, furniture. Elle points out I could stay at my parents' house when I'm in town, and... no. I'll gladly take the uncomfortable sleeping arrangement over the incredibly awkward sleeping arrangement. But better yet would be our own place. Which means we really should get up, get dressed, and leave  _this_  place. But then, that requires a shower, another notorious source of distraction. So now you understand how it got to be eleven before we were even anywhere close to ready to set foot outside the apartment.

Elle's still drying her hair when there's a knock at the door.

"Could you see who that is? I'm hoping it's those guys down the hall that borrowed my power cord yesterday. I need that back."

I finish getting my shirt on and the knocking repeats before I make it to the door, this time louder and more insistent. Elle's neighbors need better manners. I'm already glaring as I open the door, but it turns out to be for the wrong reason.

"FINALLY. What took you so —"

Lee. Of course. Because it's been almost three weeks since he last threw himself into the middle of this, so he must be feeling lonely.

"I'd have answered the door faster, but I needed to put clothes on." If Lee's going to drop in unannounced, I'm going to torture him. That's how this works.

"Gross. Gross gross gross. Ignoring you. Where's Elle?"

"Even less dressed. Have you ever considered telling people before showing up?" I'm lying, but it's worth it for the look on his face.

" _Lee_?" Before we've even registered Elle's shocked exclamation she's run to the door and flung herself at Lee, and apparently sobbing in doorways is not a reaction specific to me. Lee shoots me a concerned look and I just laugh.

"It's her new thing, crying when people show up. I'd have warned you, but that would have required knowing you were coming."

"Shut up, Noah." Elle mumbles into Lee's shirt before finally releasing him. "What are you  _doing_  here?"

"I heard there was a family lunch tomorrow. Couldn't miss that. Especially not Dino's very first family lunch. I'm bringing popcorn for me and Brad."

"You know we already told all of them, right?" I tell him.

"Sure. But I'm still expecting great things from lunch. Dad lecturing Noah. Mom gazing at Elle like the Promised One. Mike just quietly staring daggers at Noah the whole time. Brad being completely oblivious to it all. It's going to be  _awesome_. Not to mention, finally a family lunch without having to pretend to believe whatever excuses one or both of you made for not showing up."

Elle smacks Lee and I can't say I disagree. Too soon for our past idiocy to be funny, little bro.

"You really flew out here just to revel in our pain?" Elle asks him.

"Hey, I'm not going to revel. I'm here to  _support_  you in this difficult time. Aaaaaaaand also to bask in not being the screwup this time. You going to let me in, now?"

I turn to Elle. "Look, it's your place, so your decision, but he's never going to stop showing up like this if you let him in."

"Yeah, you're one to talk about showing up unannounced." Elle stares at me pointedly.

I smirk at her. "You haven't complained yet."

Elle's blush is as deep as Lee's disgust is obvious.

"Guys, I am RIGHT HERE."

"Maybe we  _should_  leave him outside." Elle pretends to ponder, tapping a finger at her lips.

"Ugh, fine. I'm not actually here just to rubberneck at family lunch, although I'm serious about the popcorn. My advisor was supposed to give a talk at USC on Monday but he threw his back out and asked me to step in for him, so I figured, hey, perfect, I can spend the weekend with my dearest friend and least favorite brother and congratulate them together, but I can see I'm not wanted."

"Come in, jerk." Elle laughs.

Lee follows Elle in, and it strikes me this is the first time the three of us have been in the same room since before Mike's accident. As crazy as our triangle can drive me, I've missed this. Besides, anything that makes Elle look as happy as she does right now is a good thing in my book.

"Holy crap, how did you get so much bigger in a month?"

Okay, so now Elle doesn't look quite as happy. Dig your way out of that one, Lee.

"Seriously, Lee? That's how this works. Don't make me regret letting you in."

"I guess it's good you've been stealing all those shirts from my brother over the years, because I don't see how anything else is going to fit soon."

Apparently Lee has a death wish.

"OUT! You are banished!" Elle is pointing at the door and I'm not sure she's kidding.

"Look, Lee, I know you hate it when I give you advice on talking to women, but you really may want to reconsider your approach here."

But apparently all this falls under that infinite forgiveness pass Elle somehow granted Lee forever ago, because suddenly she flings her arms around him again for another hug, laughing hard.

"Just wait until your graduation. I'm going to be so huge I'm going to need two tickets."

Ah yes, graduation. Elle's doctor assured us that flying to Boston at the end of May should be fine, and Elle is over the moon at the idea, so I know better than to try and stand in front of this speeding train. Truth be told, I love the idea too. Our breakup dragged down my senior year, and this feels like our chance to close the Boston chapter of our story on a happier note. I've also found myself wondering if it might not be the right opportunity to start a certain other chapter, but that's going to take some thinking about.

"Do you still want a second round of breakfast?" I ask Elle, getting back to the conversation Lee's arrival interrupted. Of course she does, but I have to pretend to ask.

"Yeah. Another toast? And tea?"

"Oh, hey, I could use breakfast too. Or lunch. It's already way past lunch time in my time zone. I'm starving." Lee announces.

"And?" I ask him.

"... you were offering to make food?" Lee answers, hopeful.

"I offered to make  _Elle_  food."

"Oh, I see. So  _Elle_  gets special treatment."

I nod slowly at him. "Yeah. But feel free to make your own breakfast."

Elle laughs at us from the couch, and I'm struck again by just how thrilled she looks at having both of us here. Fine, I'll be nicer to Lee.

"I'll throw more bread in the toaster for you, but no special requests, you're getting the same peanut butter and jelly Elle likes. And there's probably a cup of coffee left in the pot if you want it, but you'll have to drink it in the kitchen so Elle doesn't get upset she can't have a second cup."

"Wow, that didn't take long."

"Excuse me?"

"You're very well trained. Impressive for only three weeks." Lee smirks at me.

"And you're just as obnoxious as ever.  _Not_  impressive for twenty-two years."

Lee laughs, and his broad smile is genuine. "I'm  _never_  not going to give you guys shit. But I'm also really happy for both of you."

I snort in a vaguely appreciative manner.

"Or, yikes, all three of you, I guess. Wow, that's still crazy. I really thought I had a few more years before you two started reproducing."

"Sorry for ruining your plans."

"Oh, no complaints from me. This uncle thing turns out to be a real hit with the ladies. I need some new sonogram pictures to show off. Although, I'm a little worried Jenna's getting ideas and no offense, but hell no."

"Why would I be offended?"

"You may be chill with this whole situation, but I'm planning another decade of freedom for myself. You  _are_  chill with this whole situation, though, right? You don't need another brotherly intervention?"

A dozen snarky responses spring to mind, but instead I just look over at Elle and smile. "I don't know if  _chill_  is the right word, but... I wouldn't change a thing."

Lee pretends to vomit, but he can't hide his smile.

* * *

Lee is a few steps ahead of me heading back to the sitting area and I watch him claim the half of the couch not already occupied by Elle.

"Lee?" I glare.

"What?" His look is innocent, whether that's genuine or to annoy me, but Elle is rolling her eyes at us.

I  _could_  sit in the chair near the couch. But instead I put the plate and cup I was carrying down on the coffee table, scoop Elle up, and sit myself down on the couch with Elle in my lap.

"So we're back to this. Wow, I had definitely missed being a pawn in your never-ending war." Elle mock-glares at both of us.

"Anyone else on the planet, Elle. That's all I ever asked of you. You could have picked literally anyone else on the planet." Lee shoots back.

"Sorry, but I'm stuck with him now."

"Stuck with me? Thanks." I grumble.

Elle sticks her tongue out at me and I have to give up on maintaining my offended look.

"Very happily stuck with you." She adds. "And you'd better believe you're stuck with me and Dino now."

"Dinah," I reflexively correct her. I've been trying to get her to switch all morning.

"Fine. Dinah. The point is, you're ours." Elle is looking at me with an intensity that has me wondering how to make Lee disappear immediately.

"Wait, what? I hate to interrupt your gross gazing at each other—just kidding, I  _live_  to wreck your disgusting schmoopiness—but did I miss an update about Dino?"

Oh. Crap. Elle had wanted that to be a surprise for family lunch.

"Great job on the secrecy, Noah." Elle rolls her eyes at me.

I flash Elle an apologetic smile. "Like you wouldn't have told Lee yourself at some point in the next ten minutes?"

She glares at me, then giggles. She knows I'm right.

"Fine. Yes, Lee, you did miss an update, but you can't tell anyone else yet that this baby here is of the girl variety. Which apparently means we need to call her Dinah now, because Noah's very concerned about respecting her femininity."

"Whoa. A girl. That's awesome. And I just want you to know that  _my_  masculinity will in no way be threatened by sharing my name with a girl. I'm completely comfortable with Lee Junior being a girl."

"For the last time, Lee... No. Just no." I warn him.

"Lee, that's not how  _Junior_ works." Elle laughs.

"Fine, just plain Lee."

I'd be lunging at Lee if Elle weren't perched on my lap, giggling madly. I settle for flipping him off while he smirks at both of us. If not for the subject of our squabble being what to name the baby currently kicking merrily at the arm I've got wrapped around Elle, it could be any number of lazy long-ago weekends. It's good to be home.


	34. Special Guest Star

_**A/N:**_   _We've got a special guest narrator for this chapter. I tried telling him this story's narration was strictly an Elle and Noah situation, but apparently interfering in Elle and Noah situations is, like, his superpower._

* * *

_**(Lee)** _

Elle is giggling about something Noah muttered too quietly for me to hear, and given her blush and his grin I'm pretty sure I absolutely don't want to know what it was. I'd forgotten how revoltingly smitten the two of them can get, yet now I'm stuck hoping they keep going like this another six to seven decades. Don't get me wrong, I love seeing Elle this happy again. And, my frequent claims to the contrary notwithstanding, I do love my brother, so I like seeing him happy, too. It's just... they really couldn't have found anyone else?  _Anyone_? But if there's anything the last few years have forced me to admit, it's that we're all better off with these two together. And now I've got a niece to worry about, and she's definitely better off with these two together, so I'm just going to have to grin and bear it while these two torture me for the next... forever years.

Dude, a niece. That's still crazy to think about. A double niece, because let's face it, Elle's kids were always going to be my family. There was a time when I'd started to expect this outcome. Not this soon, but at some point. Then these idiots broke up, and for a long time I feared they might both be stubborn enough never to work things out, especially after October. I can't believe it wasn't even a month ago that I was debating whether to try something drastic to get these two to just talk already. And then I discovered something drastic had already happened.

* * *

_**Four Weeks Earlier** _

Five days in Cabo with friends, then a long weekend in LA to see Elle—that was the plan for the last spring break of my college years. I'd tried to convince Elle to join us in Cabo, but our spring breaks didn't line up and she didn't seem enthused by the idea to start with. She's still despairing over Noah and their latest disaster, although lately I haven't even been able to get her to talk about it. So, it's time to meddle. The two of them are always accusing me of meddling, so I may as well actually do it and get us all out of this quagmire of awkwardness.

I'm tempted to tell Elle we're going on a roadtrip and not mention the destination is San Francisco. The problem with that plan is Noah. He's been entirely unwilling to talk about what happened in October, and given the bitterness with which he rejected my most recent attempts I'm not willing to risk him reacting like a jackass to a surprise appearance from me and Elle. Maybe I should plan to drop in on him alone. Get Elle to talk to me this weekend, then show up at Noah's apartment and refuse to leave until he talks, and  _then_ figure out a plan. I'm not sure what, although maybe just getting these two in the same room would do it. Except I really would like them to actually deal with their history before they get naked this time. Ugh. I can't believe I'm once again trying to get them back together. The things I do for Elle and my utterly undeserving brother... Anyway, step one needs to be Elle, and that's where I'm headed now. She's got class until four, but she'd said Mickey would be around to let me in.

"Ah, my second-favorite Flynn." Mickey greets me at the door.

"Second-favorite? Did I miss Noah getting off your shit list?"

"Oh no, that runaway jackass is definitely still headlining that list. Your mom's my favorite, you know that."

"Ah, right. Well, I can't argue with that."

I seem to have interrupted Mickey in the middle of doing dishes, so I sit myself on the kitchen counter to keep her company while I wait for Elle. I know Elle's told Mickey her whole Noah drama, and I'm hoping Mickey might know what's been up with Elle lately.

"Elle still hasn't talked to Noah, has she?" I ask.

Mickey looks at me strangely. "Don't you think she would have told you, if she had?"

"I don't know. She's been really... weird to me recently. She won't talk about him at all."

When I saw Elle over winter break she'd finally seemed ready to talk things out with Noah, even after his avoidance of family dinner. And then she just... ghosted me, for weeks. She's back to speaking to me, made some apologies about being really busy with classes, but she hasn't mentioned Noah again and she changes the subject whenever I bring him up.

"That's a question you need to ask Elle."

"Yeah, I've tried. That's the problem, she won't talk to me about it."

Mickey is scrubbing at a pan with mildly frightening intensity. "Lee, I mean it. You need to talk to Elle. None of this is mine to tell."

"So there is something to tell?"

"Elle will be home in an hour."

I just don't get why Elle would suddenly clam up about Noah. Lord knows there've been times in the past I wished she  _would_  keep me out of their drama, but she's never been able to before, at least not since high school. That was our promise, the summer after junior year—no more secrets. A weird thought occurs to me.

"Is Elle seeing someone?"

Mickey swivels around to face me. "What?"

"I just wondered... if maybe that was why she doesn't want to talk about Noah. If she's met someone else." I can't decide if that would be a good or a bad thing.

"Argh. Seriously, Lee, Elle will be home in an hour. And I know she's being weird to you, and I wish I could tell you why, but I promised Elle. She needs to talk to you, and you just need to wait for her to do that. But no, she's not seeing anyone."

I drop the subject after that. As crazy as this is driving me, I like that Mickey's so fiercely loyal to Elle. Even if that's supposed to be  _my_  job.

I'm sitting on Elle's couch, watching TV, when she finally shows up. She smiles brightly when she sees me, although there's something unnerving about her expression.

"I see you've reverted to weather wimpiness." I tease her. We and all the others from LA got mocked mercilessly our first semester of college for pulling out parkas the instant the weather in Boston got even mildly chilly by our Southern California standards. Five Boston winters have toughened me up, so I'm amused to see Elle bundled into a jacket on what felt like a positively balmy day to me.

"What? Oh, yeah. I thought it was going to get colder today." She's fussing distractedly with the zipper pull of her jacket, not actually taking it off, and there is just something  _off_  about the way she's looking at me. She comes and sits next to me on the couch, giving me another smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Just  _tell him_ , Elle." Mickey suddenly appears, holding a mug. "Here, I figured you might want some tea. I'm heading to Gabe's for a bit, but call me if you need me."

Elle looks so damn grateful as she accepts the mug, and this is all seriously weirding me out. Mickey's solicitousness, Elle's forced smiles, and the fact that there's some mystery thing I need to be told.

"Elle?" I have a sudden terrifying thought that she's about to tell me she's sick. "You're okay, right? I mean, whatever it is you're supposed to tell me—it's not... bad, is it?"

"Guess that depends who you ask." She's staring into her mug instead of meeting my eyes.

"I'm asking you. Elle, seriously, what is up? You're freaking me out a little. Please just tell me you're not, like, dying."

Elle's head whips up. "Oh God, Lee, I'm sorry. I'm not dying. I'm fine. I'm sorry I worried you. I should have realized this was all sounding way too cryptic. Shit. I spent all week trying to figure out how to do this, and now I'm making a mess of it. Argh. Okay. I can do this."

She's grabbed her phone and is flicking through her pictures.

"Elle?"

"Just—give me a second. Okay. Here. Picture's worth a thousand words, right? And I seem to suck at words today."

She hands me her phone. It takes me a second to understand I'm looking at a goddamn  _sonogram_ , and then I stare at her in shock.

"Elle? Is this— are you— ?"

She nods.

"Holy shit. Hooooooooly shit."

And then the penny drops. Why Elle hasn't told me about this. Why Mickey was dodging my questions. Why Elle has been avoiding every mention of Noah.

"Elle,  _how_  pregnant are you?" I'm pretty sure I know the answer, I'm just having trouble believing it.

"Just about five months. I'll spare you the math—October."

"So this is... "

"Your niece or nephew, yeah."

"Holy fucking shit. Shit, I shouldn't curse in front of a baby. It can hear us, right? Holy motherhugging crap, Elle."

Elle half laughs, and she looks the tiniest bit less tense now that the news is out.

"So many questions. Sooooooo many questions." I flop my head against the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling in shock, trying to figure out where even to start. And then a particularly pressing question occurs to me, and I sit back up to look at Elle.

"Wait, Elle, does he  _know_?"

And I have my answer from the crumpling of her face as her eyes fill with tears.

* * *

I'm not sure we ever left Elle's apartment that weekend. All I remember are endless hours of talking, a lot of Elle crying on my shoulder, and one painful argument ending in more tears from Elle. And as terrible as I felt about making her cry, it needed to be said: she had to tell Noah, and quickly. It's not that she disagreed, I just couldn't get her to actually commit to doing it anytime soon. I offered to fly us up to San Francisco that very day. I offered to help her write out what she wanted to say. I even offered to get on the phone and tell him myself, because as much as Noah needed to hear this from her, he even more so needed to hear it  _now_. I couldn't promise her he'd take the news well, at least not at first, but I knew waiting would make it even worse. Finally, I told her she had two weeks.

I'm not sure what exactly I would have done in two weeks if Elle still hadn't told Noah, but thankfully I never had to figure that out. Fate and dumb luck took pity on these two idiots and somehow they've managed to run with it. Well, fate, dumb luck, and some hard work on my part. I think I deserve some credit, really, even if Noah doesn't seem to agree on the most appropriate way to thank me. But we'll see about that.

So here I am four weeks later, sitting on Elle's couch again, except this time she's smiling instead of crying while we catch up, and I'm trying to ignore the fact that she's curled in Noah's lap and exchanging sly looks with him over what must be new private jokes. And as glad as I am for this outcome, I've got to admit I'm experiencing some whiplash. For two people who needed two and a half years to admit they'd broken up for no good reason, they've moved fast these past three weeks. But maybe that's the point—they've wasted too much time already.

It seems impossible how long it's been since we hung out like this, all three of us together. In some ways it feels just like old times, except it's hard to ignore the imminent addition to our clique, especially when Noah seems utterly incapable of taking his hands off Elle's belly for more than a minute. If I thought he was overprotective when it was just Elle... But maybe I should cut him some slack. Maybe he just needs the reminder that this is real; sometimes I still can't believe all this is actually happening, either. I'm listening to Elle but I'm watching  _him_ , watching his expressions, his reactions, his dopey-ass Shelly smile I'd forgotten existed.

And this is why I'm here. Not just for family lunch, and not to sub in for my advisor at a conference—though that was a convenient coincidence. I'm here because I needed to see these two together for myself. Let's face it, neither of them has been great about telling me the whole story this year, so I'm not just going to take it on faith when they tell me things are going well.

It's mostly Noah I'm watching. Elle's kept some big secrets from me this year, but she's all or nothing about sharing; once she's talking to me about something, she usually tells me everything. So I'm pretty sure I know where she is with all of this. Noah, though, has never been entirely open with me about Elle. He's been  _honest_ , at least after junior year, but never forthcoming; there's always been a lot left unsaid, undiscussed. Even when they were together, it was just an unavoidable reality of our situation that I couldn't be Noah's confidante when it came to Elle. And after they broke up... it was  _all_  left unsaid, a vast no man's land in our relationship. Some of that was my fault. I was furious at both of them and heartbroken for both of them, but when it came down to it... Elle needed me more. And, in my heart of hearts, if you'd forced me to pick a side—yeah, I blamed Noah just a little more than I blamed Elle. So I don't actually know what was going on in his head while they were apart, only what I observed.

He started out so damn angry. Hell, I was angry too. We barely saw each other that first semester Elle was gone, just retreated to our respective campuses. That mile and a half between us might as well have been an ocean for all we crossed it. We had friends in common, so I did get updates. Or, more accurately, complaints about Noah's perma-scowl and miserable attitude. He didn't come home at all for winter break, just found some excuse to stay back East. That's when I started hearing he was socializing again, and eventually we ran into each other at a party. Literally—I was making my way across a crowded room when some girl stumbled into me before being helped back upright by her date. Imagine my delight to discover that date was Noah. We didn't acknowledge each other beyond an exchange of glares, although later that night I sent him a text for the first time in weeks.  _You can do better_. But what could I really say? They'd been broken up for months by then, and, technically, Elle had been the one to end it.

We did slowly start hanging out again that semester, realizing it might be our last time living in the same city. I kept my comments on the girls buzzing around him to an icy minimum and he almost managed to pull off looking disinterested when I let slip anything about Elle. I made sure a picture of her was on my lock screen every time I saw him, and I pretended not to notice him stealing glances at my phone. I tried to talk to him about the breakup  _once_. The flash of pain in his eyes before he shut me down spoke volumes.

Honestly, the Harvard hookups that spring bothered me less than when he met Megan. And I had to admit that  _did_  bother me, no matter how many times I'd claimed to wish Elle and Noah would date anyone but each other. But Megan stopped bothering me as soon as I visited and saw them together. She was nice enough, and I'm sure they seemed happy to most people... but I'd seen Noah with Elle. This wasn't even close. I mentioned nothing to Elle and I pretended to be surprised when Noah told me they'd broken up.

Maybe I should have done something sooner. That second winter, when I knew Megan was out of the picture and Elle was finally admitting how much she missed Noah. Maybe I should have called Noah on his ridiculous avoidance and dragged his ass to Christmas dinner. But this needed to come from them, and I don't think they were ready. I think Noah still thought he could just  _will_  himself into getting over her—and that he should. So when his San Francisco friends asked me for the story on Elle, I looked him straight in the eye as I told them that if he had ever deserved her he'd admit he missed her instead of stewing in his hurt feelings and crushed heart. And when he started to wise up, when he started to oh so casually inquire about Elle, I shut him down and made it clear he'd have to actually talk to her if he was curious. It still took way the hell too long, but I knew I was winning when he called on the second anniversary of Mike's accident to make sure I'd checked in with Elle that day. So when I found out Elle would be alone for her mom's birthday, instead of flying to LA myself as I initially considered, I made sure Noah knew about it.

Yeah, so that weekend didn't turn out quite as I expected. I can't do it all for them, okay? I mean, I specifically told Elle they had to talk through their issues before getting naked. At some point the ball is in their idiot hands and I have to just sit back and try not to cringe. But they seem to have dug their way out of the mess they made, yet again with timely help from the world's best future uncle, and now I just need to see for myself that they're on the right path.

So I watch them. I hear Elle laugh more freely than she has in years. I rediscover my brother's goofy side, absent for too long. I watch him watch her and I start to relax. There's disbelief and amazement in his eyes sometimes, but never doubt. The bitterness I'd heard all winter is gone from his voice, as is the hurt that had still lingered during my impromptu intervention.

Would it be disloyal of me to admit I didn't think Noah would take Elle's news as well as he has? I was sure he'd come around, but I feared it would take a lot longer. I worried he'd lock himself into a righteous fury over how long he was kept in the dark, convince himself she still didn't trust him. But I should have given him more credit. It's not the first time I've underestimated him, and you'd think by now I'd have learned that most of what I think I know about Noah goes out the window once Elle is involved.

Noah catches me staring and gives me a silent "What?" over Elle's shoulder as she chatters on. I look at her, then back at him, and just shake my head in disbelief at where we are. And I think he gets it, because his quizzical expression turns to a satisfied grin that I can't help but return.

But I will never, ever stop giving them shit.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ **Apologies for putting off family lunch - I started writing it, and then the idea for this chapter appeared and demanded to be written. Lee POV is not going to become a regular thing, but I'd always felt bad about skipping over the weekend Lee found out. It was necessary in order for the pregnancy to be revealed through Noah's eyes, but I still wanted to write it... and I decided now was the time for a glimpse of that weekend as well as Lee's take on where things stand now. (And one day, when this story is complete, I will finally finally finally write the extended version of Noah and Lee's post-prom conversation that I** _ **need**_   **to have happened.)**


	35. Rule Revisions

_**(Elle)** _

I wake up way too early Sunday morning to a flurry of kicks and then the feeling of Noah's hand sliding over my belly, followed by another volley of kicks. Or maybe punches, I can't really tell yet. Noah's hand shifts again, lightly pressing, and I realize he's intentionally chasing Dino around, provoking her. And as heartwarming as this little game of tag is, it's less cute when it's  _my_  guts getting jabbed when I'd really rather still be asleep.

"Quit it," I mumble, my voice not quite working yet.

Noah's hand stills. "Awake already?" He asks, sounding surprised.

"Yeah. Because someone is being goaded into kicking me. You realize I can feel that, right?"

He laughs softly. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking. She started it."

I roll over to face him. " _She started it_? Are you five? You realize you're supposed to be the grownup here, right?"

His expression sobers instantly. "Yeah. I do realize, as terrifying as that is. That's actually why I was awake," he admits.

"Are you doing the thing where you make a list in your head of things to do and then obsess over it?" I know him. That's how he deals with stress.

"I don't  _obsess_. I plan."

"Let me guess. You're running through all the crap you think your dad is going to nag at us about."

"Pretty much."

"Go run," I tell him. "I can practically hear you getting worked up and it's stressing me out. Go run or to the gym or  _something_  so you're not cranky for family lunch."

"I do not get cranky." Noah protests.

"You do. You get cranky if you don't work out, and it's even worse when you're worked up over something. You need to get this nervous energy out of your system."

"I can think of better ways of burning off energy."

It is way, way too early for the look he is giving me. " _After_. I told you, you're already amped up and stressing me out. And stop making Dino kick when I'm trying to sleep. Go run, let me sleep, and then we can talk. Or... not talk, if you're lucky."

"Dinah." He corrects me with a smug grin.

"GO." And we really need to get a place with a larger bed so I can actually roll away to express my annoyance.

Noah returns two hours later bearing coffee and muffins, and I am much, much friendlier to him then.

* * *

I am staring into my closet and realizing I am down to two pairs of uncomfortably tight yoga pants, drawstring lounge pants, and some leggings that keep rolling off my belly. I'm going to have to bite the bullet and buy actual maternity clothes. An idea occurs to me and I pick up my phone.

"Hey. Wanna go shopping?"

"Always. Where? I'm out of the loop on which thrift has the weirdest stuff these days." Lee asks.

"Nooo, I think I need the mall this time."

"What exactly are we shopping for?" Lee asks suspiciously.

"Nothing fits anymore. I have reached the limits of my stretchiest, loosest clothing."

"You're making me shop for maternity clothes?"

"Please? How is this different from all our other shopping?"

"The maternity store has those creepy pregnant mannequins. And this really seems like it should be Noah's job."

"Shopping is  _our_ thing."

"No, this is pregnancy shopping. And everything pregnancy is his responsibility. For obvious reasons."

"But I need clothes  _now_  or I'm going to be wearing pajama pants to class this week. And Noah is supposed to go talk to your dad this morning, before lunch. And Mickey is out of town. And you're right, those mannequins are creepy, so I don't want to go alone."

"For every minute I spend in the maternity store, we spend a minute in the comic book store after. And no comments about how the women are drawn, you've already made your opinions clear."

"Deal. Pick me up in the Mustang?"

"Always."

* * *

"Ok, wait by the mirrors while I try these on." I tell Lee, ducking into one of the dressing rooms. Peeling my overtight leggings from my waist is a relief, and yeah, it was past time for this shopping trip. I pull on the first pair of pants and burst out laughing at the ridiculous stretchy belly panel that rises practically to my bra.

I step out of the dressing room and twirl for Lee. "Lee, you've got to see this. These are the stupidest-looking pants I have ever - "

"Excuse me, but your husband can't be back here. " A stern-faced saleswoman appears.

"What? Oh, he's not my husband." I tell her, flustered. Lee looks horrified.

"Regardless. No men in the dressing room area, even the dads."

"Oh no, this is  _not_ my baby." Lee protests emphatically.

The saleswoman is looking increasingly unsympathetic.

"You don't have to sound so  _offended_  by the idea, Lee."

"I'm not offended! I'm just saying, this isn't my kid."

"It's his brother's baby." I try to clarify.

The saleswoman's eyebrows have now risen practically to her hairline. I don't think any of our explanations are helping.

"Whatever your... relationship... might be, he needs to get out of here." She says, icily.

"No, no, you're not getting it." I'm weirdly invested in defending our honor now. "We're not together. He's my  _best friend_. And... also the uncle."

The saleswoman does not look any more convinced.

"See, I  _told_ you it's weird. For  _six years_  I've told you this is weird. Are you finally realizing everyone else thinks it's weird, too?" Lee asks, triumphantly. "Anyway, I'll be out here. Hurry up and find some giant pants so we can hit the comic book store."

Just for that, I  _do_  make Lee listen again to all my opinions about comic book representations of women. But now I have pants that actually fit and shirts that don't end at my navel, and maybe next time I'll ask June to go shopping with me instead.

Speaking of June, inspiration strikes as Lee and I walk by a children's clothing store. This time I make him wait outside while I dash in to make a quick purchase.

* * *

"Did you forget how to drive living in Cambridge?" I complain to Lee. "I'm pretty sure we just got passed by a horse-drawn carriage. It'll be night by the time we get to my house."

"I'm driving carefully."

"You're driving like a grandma. And not my cool grandma, the other one."

"You are in my car."

"Yes. I know that. That's why I'm complaining. Although I'm not sure it qualifies as a car if it can't break fifty on the freeway."

"You're in my car, you're pregnant, and if anything happens to you at least three people at the lunch we're about to attend will compete to see who gets to kill me."

"Ugh. Fine. I'll just settle in for a nap. Wait, which three? And why won't the other two be upset?"

"Brad will be upset, but he's not big enough to kill me."

"And?"

"And... ah... Noah won't be competing, he'll just do it."

"Nice save. But it was your dad you weren't including in the three, wasn't it?"

Lee gives me a sheepish look. "Because he hates blood. He'd let the others do it."

"Admit it, he hates me now."

"Elle, he does not hate you."

"He summoned Noah this morning to lecture him about how I've ruined his life."

"Oh man, you've got that one backwards. He summoned Noah to lecture him about not ruining  _your_  life. And probably also all their usual drama that has nothing to do with you."

I stare out the window for a while.

"Hey, Elle?" Lee asks.

"Yeah?"

"Neither of you ruined your lives. You know that, right? I think yesterday was the happiest I've seen Noah since... I don't know, maybe ever."

"It pains you to say that, doesn't it?" I'm only half joking.

"It really doesn't. I know I was a jerk about you two originally, but I wised up a long time ago. Although if you could cut down on the grossness, that'd be appreciated."

"I see him two days a week and you invited yourself over for one of them," I glare at Lee. "The  _whole_ day. That is a lot of lost quality time."

Lee pretends to gag, but he's laughing. "I was going to say I was chaperoning to make sure you guys didn't get carried away and get yourselves in trouble, but then I remembered..." Lee gestures at my belly.

" _Shut up_."

"You know why we had rule number nine, right?"

"Because you were afraid Noah and I would get ourselves into trouble?"

"No, sorry, change of subject. I was done discussing your contraceptive incompetence."

" _Ninety-seven percent_ , Lee. I am not  _incompetent_ , I am  _unlucky_. And next time don't relocate your condom stash without telling me."

"Oh no, now I'm hiding them all from you. I mean, after a reasonable interval. You guys cut my potential niece and nephew supply in half by pairing up, so you're going to have to make up for it by having at least, like, six. Really, it's a good thing you're getting started early."

"I'm—I'm not even going to dignify that terrifying bit of insanity with a response."

"Anyway, I told you, I was changing subjects. That's not why we had the rule."

"You added number nine, so please, illuminate me. Because I was never concerned about you and Brad."

"I didn't want you two hooking up because I didn't want you two breaking up. Because then everything would be really awkward. And I'd have to pick sides. And it would suck."

I'm not sure what he wants me to say, because that's exactly what happened. "Are you really still mad at me? I'm sorry we put you through all that, but I'm not sorry for breaking the rule."

"Jesus, Elle, no, that's not what I was getting at. At all."

We're into neighborhood streets now, and Lee pulls over and parks in front of a random house before turning to look at me.

"I added that rule because back then I couldn't see how it  _wouldn't_  end badly, and I selfishly didn't want my best friend and my brother hating each other for the rest of my life. And, you do recall Noah's track record before you, right? I wanted better for you. But I was wrong about all of it.  _That's_  what I was trying to say. I should have added a caveat to the rule.  _Relatives are totally off-limits unless you're so disgustingly suited that anything else makes you miserable, in which case no breaking up and for the love of God no PDA_."

"That's—a really long rule. That I still broke."

"Just don't break it again. Well, I've given up on the PDA part."

"So, no pressure or anything. We just have to stay together forever or risk your wrath."

"Elle, I was joking. I just want you to be happy. And if being with Noah ever weren't making you happy, my feelings about it should be the last thing you consider. I didn't mean for it to sound like pressure. It was... a really poorly executed attempt at saying I had no idea what I was talking about when I made that rule, no idea who you two would turn out to be. Well, who you probably already were and I just didn't see it. Let me try this again.  _Relatives are totally off-limits unless you're so disgustingly suited that anything else makes you miserable, in which case do what makes you happy and Lee will find a way to deal_. Better?"

"I can work with that." I smile.

Lee reaches for the ignition, then seems to change his mind and turns to face me again.

"Hey, Elle—are you getting pressure from people? From our parents? It seemed like I struck a nerve just now."

"No, not from our parents. Well, I don't know what your dad thinks. I guess we're about to find out. But my dad and your mom have both been going out of their way to tell us there's no rush and they'll be happy with whatever we decide about our relationship, as long as we're in  _this_  together. It's the casual friends and random strangers who make the comments about shotgun weddings and how the clock is ticking. And they're usually saying it jokingly, but it still grates."

"Because you don't want to?" Lee seems hesitant to ask.

"Because I don't want to  _like this_. I don't want to get married because of an accidental pregnancy, or because of any other thing outside our control. If we did, it should be... because we want to, for us. An actual choice. And I just don't see how anything we decide right now wouldn't feel like it's because of the baby. So I could do without the constant assumption we should be racing to the altar just because I'm pregnant."

"Have you talked about it? The two of you, I mean."

"Ha. No. I'm pretty sure Noah fears I'll freak out and run away if he even mentions it."

"Would you?" Lee asks gently.

"I wouldn't run away. But I don't particularly want to talk about it, no. Things are good. Really good. But there's no way we'd be talking about marriage if I weren't pregnant. So I'd kind of like to just enjoy where we are right now, and deal with  _this_ , and let the rest of it evolve on its own timeline."

"But you're okay with him moving in, right? You're not just... saying that because he wants to? Or because you think you have to?"

"No, I really do want to. But moving in is different. It's less emotional and more... logistics. I don't mean I'm doing it just because it's practical. But that timeline being rushed by the baby doesn't bother me the same way. I don't know. Marriage is just different. More important. And I don't want any part of  _that_  decision to be about practicality, and now is absolutely not the time."

"You guys need to talk about this."

"We need to talk about the fact that I don't want to talk about it?"

"Just... if you're right that he's worried you'll freak out, don't you want him to know that's not it?"

"I guess." He has a point.

"Do you... want  _me_  to say something?" Lee asks cautiously.

"God, no, please don't. That'd be even worse—if Noah thinks I'm talking to you about it instead of him."

"Aren't you?"

"Only because you brought it up. I know it doesn't make sense. But no, absolutely do not talk to Noah about this. Maybe you're right and I need to find some way to tell him some form of this. But it cannot be  _you_."

"Okay." Lee says after a pause. "I promise, I'm staying out of this. But if anyone makes a shotgun wedding joke while I'm around, I'll punch them."

I raise an eyebrow at Lee.

"And by 'punch,' I mean shut them down with my razor wit and a stern but nonviolent look."

"Better."

"Alright, you ready for lunch?"

"Ready as I'll ever be. Which isn't saying much. If things get too uncomfortable, would you mind confessing some huge terrible mistake to distract everyone? It doesn't even need to be anything bad. Just distracting."

"Announce my plan to not turn in my thesis, drop out two credits shy of my degree, and try my luck at stand-up comedy instead?"

"Perfect. Please?"

"Only for you."

Lee starts the car again and we make our way the last few streets to my house. Or, I guess, my dad's house—it occurs to me for the first time that I may not ever live there again, and I'm not sure how to feel about that. But I was telling Lee the truth about moving in with Noah. I unreservedly want to, can't wait to, and I've stopped worrying about whether that decision was accelerated by the pregnancy. It was, and that's fine—we've wasted too much time apart already and our current weekday separation is hard enough. But that other big question—I was telling the truth there too. A truth that I probably do need to address with Noah, somehow. Because it's not about him, or about feeling panicked; some decisions just deserve to be made on their own merits. Or maybe it  _is_  about him. Because I love him too much, have loved him too long, to rush this part.

But I'll have to think about how to have that conversation later, because for now I've got a family lunch to attend. A family lunch whose guest of honor is currently kicking up a storm right below my ribs. I get it, Dinah, it's a big occasion, but you're going to need to chill. I mean, at least one of us should stay zen, and  _I_  definitely can't.

"You ready for this?" Lee asks after parking in front of the house.

"Not even a little bit."

"Awesome. Popcorn?" Lee offers, retrieving a bag from the back seat.

"You actually brought popcorn? That wasn't just a joke?"

"Oh no, that was dead serious. Come on, this is going to be the best family lunch ever. I mean, for me at least."

It's not often that I see the family resemblance, but when Lee smirks like that? Yeah, definitely brothers.  
  


_**A/N: I know, I know, how did I put off family lunch *again*? What can I say, I was having too much fun with Lee, plus I wanted to get this last conversation in. I swear, family lunch does in fact take place next time.** _


	36. Family Lunch

_**(Elle)** _

June is already at the house when Lee and I arrive, but no sign of Noah or his dad yet. June shoos Lee off to the kitchen under orders to help my dad and Brad finish getting lunch ready, then sits the two of us down in the living room.

"Here," she says, handing me a small bag. "I'd meant to give this back to you when we had dinner, but I completely forgot."

I'm not sure what June would have to give back to me until I look in the bag and feel my cheeks blaze. It's the tell-tale shirt, the one that I'd gotten soaked and sandy at the Pier, then forgotten in the dryer at Noah's house, now neatly folded and tucked into white tissue paper.

"I thought you might want that back." June says with a mischievous look, laughing at my reaction.

"I, um, yeah. Thanks. Although, it's going to be a while before I can wear this again."

"Do you need to go shopping?" The longing in June's tone is evident.

"I actually do. I made Lee go with me this morning, but he was entirely unhelpful and then a scary saleslady told him he couldn't be near the dressing rooms, so I didn't have a chance to buy much."

"Maybe next weekend we could go, if I can steal you away from Noah for a bit?"

I blush again. "Yeah, I'd like that. Speaking of, are Noah and Matthew still at your house? Was their whole talk... going okay?"

"Oh, don't worry. You know Matthew's not nearly as upset as Noah thinks he is, right? Those two just cannot talk about _anything_ without butting heads."

"You think?"

"Matthew hasn't yet accepted both of his boys are old enough to figure out their own lives. Noah hasn't yet realized that his dad wanting to give advice doesn't mean his dad disapproves of what he's doing. Honestly, I think they're arguing more about Noah's job decisions than anything involving you or this baby."

"Matthew doesn't think I'm... dragging Noah down?"

"Why in the world would he think that?"

"Because I'm—saddling Noah with this baby. Tying him down." I look down, fidgeting with my hands.

" _You_ didn't do anything _Noah_ didn't also do. I do recall how this works, you know."

"We, ah, we weren't being completely... irresponsible, you know. Just, I guess, unlucky." I can't believe I'm telling June this, but I just need to get it off my chest. We did actually listen to all those very uncomfortable lectures of hers.

June laughs. "It happens, Elle. And it was still _both_ of you."

"I guess."

"Anyway, regardless of how this happened, I promise you Matthew doesn't think you're dragging Noah down. And he's always liked you. He's just a worrier, and I know he has a list of things he wants to talk to you both about. But I've already told him today's lunch is not the time for that. Oh, Elle, I am just so glad to have all of you here again. It's been too long."

"Yeah, definitely too long." I give June an awkward smile, because we both know why it's been so long.

"And next time, bring Mickey. I need to thank her for watching out for you and my grandchild."

"Since I was too clueless to figure it out myself, you mean?"

"Oh, honey, I should have seen it too. You looked so pale at Christmas, and you flinched every time I offered you food."

"Except for that pie. That pie you made was the first thing that had tasted good in weeks."

"Well, I'm glad for that. I did almost ask you what happened in October, that evening. It was so obvious _something_ had gone wrong, especially after Noah didn't show. But then you and Lee holed up in his room, talking, and I figured I should stay out of it."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I'd seen Noah. I just... there was a lot going on and I felt pretty terrible about all of it. And I do want to tell you about it, at some point."

"Another time, if you want. But Elle, you don't owe me explanations. I'm happy enough knowing you two found your way back together, no matter how you got there."

"I still... there are still things I want to tell you."

"Then whenever you want, we'll talk."

June pulls me into a hug, and I relax against her shoulder a minute, so grateful to have her back. Suddenly I remember my earlier impulse purchase. I'd intended to bring it out at lunch, but now I want to have this moment with June, alone.

"I, ah, have something for you." I tell June as I rise from the couch and retrieve a gift-wrapped bundle from my bag. I'd asked the store for the plain wrapping paper, to make the contents less obvious.

"For me?" June's confusion turns to shocked delight as she tears the paper and pulls out a tiny dress in a cheery floral print. She stares at me, as if awaiting confirmation.

"I know you said you wanted to get to shop for tiny dresses, so maybe next time we can go together?" I ask her with a nervous smile.

I am suddenly swept back into June's arms. "A girl? Oh, I am so thrilled. I would have been thrilled either way, but I have to admit I'm extra thrilled now."

"We were going to tell everyone at lunch, but I couldn't wait. But can you pretend to be surprised when we do announce it?"

"I'm sure I'll have no trouble tearing up all over again." June laughs. "Oh, Elle, I'm just so happy for you. A baby girl."

June's expression turns wistful, and I sense we're thinking about the same thing. Or rather, the same person, the one whose absence, over years dulled to a familiar background ache, is suddenly sharp and searing again.

"She would have been thrilled too. And not just about a granddaughter. About all of this, the two of you together." June whispers into my hair.

"You think?"

"I know."

I let June hold me tighter, and I'm not sure how long we stay like that, silently thinking of her. It's the sound of tires on the gravel driveway that finally has me sit up, and I look out the window to see Matthew and Noah step out of a car. The same car, so I guess at least they're still speaking to each other enough for that.

I meet them at the door and it's more than a little awkward, greeting Matthew. He smiles when he sees me, although I can also see the discomfort in his eyes as he takes in the sight of me. Maybe I'm not giving him enough credit, but I have a feeling that the specter of me, pregnant, was one of those things he dreaded in the abstract for a long time, and isn't quite sure what to do with now that it's a reality.

"Elle, hello. We've missed seeing you this winter. And I was glad to hear from Noah that this is all... going well."

Which isn't quite the same as congratulating us, or saying he's happy for us, but it'll do for now. Noah is rolling his eyes at me from behind Matthew, and I can tell he's stifling a laugh at his dad's stiff attempt at cordiality. It's honestly not all that different from how Matthew's always been. Sometimes I wonder whether he and June are an opposites attract situation or whether he's got a secret sentimental side that only she knows about.

Dad appears, rescuing us from further awkward small talk by announcing that Matthew and Noah are just in time and lunch is ready. I watch with nervous curiosity as Noah reaches to shake Dad's hand and instead finds himself pulled into a brief one-armed hug. I know they've talked at least once, although I think this is the first they've seen each other since the news. I look at Dad, and the smile he's giving Noah is warm and genuine.

I'd dreaded telling Dad I was pregnant, convinced he'd be so disappointed, so furious with both of us. But he hasn't been. He's been concerned, and for a long time he was frustrated that I still hadn't told Noah. But I guess Dad was telling the truth all those times he said he just wanted to see the two of us working this out together, because he's been surprisingly positive about all this since Noah and I started talking.

I start to follow Dad and Matthew to the dining room, but Noah draws me back, wrapping an arm around me and leaning down to kiss me.

"Noah!"

"What, concerned our parents will find out about us?" He chuckles before kissing me again.

"You're certainly in a good mood. Things went okay with your dad?"

"I'll catch you up later, but it was fine."

The annoyed look that passes over his face as he says it makes me suspect there's a little more to the story than _fine_ , but that will have to wait.

June motions for me to sit next to her when we get to the dining room, and as I sit down I see Noah and Lee both step toward the seat on my other side. Thankfully, this time Lee notices he's being glared at and walks around the table to sit opposite me instead, smirking as he watches me reach for Noah's hand under the table and grip it for reassurance. Also watching and laughing is my dad, who hasn't missed a moment of this ridiculous fraternal interaction.

"Before we eat," June says, looking around the table, "I'd just like to say how happy I am to have all of us here together again. It just hasn't been the same since you kids started going off to college."

We all know that isn't the only reason family lunches have been incomplete for years, but I'm glad we're not going there. I wonder if June is going to say more, and I see Lee's mouth twitch as if about to let loose some smartass comment, but mercifully we all leave it there, distracted by Dad's carving of the roast chicken and our usual squabbles over who wants what piece.

Dad passes me the bottle of Tabasco without prompting and this time it's Lee staring in horrified fascination as I drown my mashed potatoes in it, while Noah just laughs. I'm starting to relax, but I'm very glad that we didn't wait until today to tell Noah's parents, suddenly imagining a much, much more awkward scene at the door.

Dad and June, bless them, are both working hard to keep this lunch feeling ordinary. Dad is asking Lee about his graduation plans, while June is chatting with me about Mickey and Brad is talking Noah's ear off about some video game, which really leaves only Matthew uncomfortably watching us all. We're all carefully avoiding the elephant in the room, and I can't help but giggle as it hits me that _I_ am that elephant. Me and my rapidly expanding belly.

"You too, Elle?" Matthew asks absentmindedly after refilling June's wine glass.

"I'm good, thanks. Just, uh, water these days." I say, half embarrassed.

"Of course. I wasn't thinking." Matthew mutters. "Sorry, I guess I'm still, ah, getting used to the news."

"Me too," I admit, giving him a small smile that I'm pleasantly surprised to see returned.

And apparently everyone else overheard our exchange, because now they're all awkwardly quiet. Well, if we're finally acknowledging the elephant, might as well let Dumbo fly. I scoot my chair back so I can stand.

"Since we're all _not_ talking about the same thing, maybe I should go ahead and say that Noah and I have some news." Lee smirks at me, one eyebrow high. "Ah, I mean, in addition to _this_ news," I say as I wave at my belly. "Which you all already know about. Even if we didn't tell everyone as ... promptly as maybe we should have."

I think Noah realizes what I'm about to announce, because he turns to watch June with a sly smile. Probably I should fess up later that I already told her.

"Anyway, what I was going to say is that we wanted to let you all know that it's a girl. This baby, I mean. We found out on Friday."

Dad is staring at me with a suspiciously damp-eyed smile, and after a beat he rises from his chair and walks over to wrap me in an enveloping hug. He doesn't say anything, and he doesn't need to; we know we're both thinking the same thing. He laughs as he releases me and rests a hand on Noah's shoulder. "And, ah, good luck with that. May she be exactly as delightful and infuriating as her mother."

"Dad!" I yelp, just as Noah cheerily responds "That's the hope and fear, obviously."

"The alternative is taking after _him_ , so they'd better hope Elle's genes dominate." Lee snarks. "Which we all know is what will happen, given who's always been in charge here," he adds, this time only loud enough for me and Noah to hear, and I'm fairly certain from Lee's sudden grimace that Noah's foot just _accidentally_ collided with Lee's shin. It should probably worry me more the extent to which impending fatherhood and unclehood are making the two of them regress to childhood antics.

As promised, June is just as teary as the first time she heard the news, and she pulls me in for her own lingering hug as I sit back down. "A girl. Oh, I am so thrilled. So, so thrilled. I can't wait."

I see Lee laugh and look at Noah. "Makes you feel really warm and fuzzy, doesn't it, hearing how glad Mom is to finally get a girl?"

"Look, I tried to help," Noah replies. "I kept asking if we could swap you for Elle, back then. She was way less annoying."

"Which just makes _this_ even weirder. I'm still not sure how I'm the only one in this family who sees the weirdness in this whole quasi incestuous situation."

"Get over it, Lee." June laughs. "And I'll have you know I loved having boys, even if you were both utter terrors. But yes, now I'm excited for a girl."

"Well, I'm not happy at all it's a girl." Brad declares dejectedly from the end of the table.

"Don't worry, Brad, I'm sure the next one will be a boy." Lee smiles innocently.

"LEE!" I sputter at the same time Noah whips his head up to stare at Lee with a warning in his eyes.

"I think one is quite enough for now," Dad laughs awkwardly.

"Oh, I'm glad to hear Lee is so excited for babies. But don't you think this one needs a cousin before we start worrying about siblings? Do you think you and Jenna might feel ready soon?" June asks him sweetly.

"Mom! Are you insane?" Lee gapes at her.

"Don't you want your kids to be compatible ages? You're going to have to hurry up." June chides him.

Lee looks completely gobsmacked, but I catch the twinkle in June's eye and realize she's having fun with him.

"I'm _twenty-two_."

"So am I." I point out helpfully, enjoying Lee's mounting panic.

"Literally THIS WEEK you lectured me about contraception."

"Well, I figured a reminder wouldn't hurt, given recent events. And see, Lee, it's not so funny when it's _you_ being volunteered to have babies, is it? So lay off Elle and Noah. Mike's right, one is quite enough to worry about for now."

Now that the seal has been broken on the baby topic, the awkwardness that had hung over our earlier conversations has lifted. This finally feels like a normal family lunch again, and it's just... nice. Familiar. Comforting.

Dad and Matthew are talking, and while their voices are too low for me to overhear, I can guess the topic from their occasional glances my way. I can only hope Dad's confidence in us will rub off on Matthew, and I still need the story on this morning from Noah. He and Lee are arguing about something or other and Brad is hanging on their every word, sometimes interjecting his own comments, so eager to join in.

Not moving home feels a bit like abandoning Brad, even if that doesn't make any sense; I won't really be any less present than I was living on campus this year. It's just that I'd expected to come back here, so it's strange to realize my last day living at home may have passed without any of us knowing it. I guess all that assumes things will work out with Noah. But that's what I'm going to plan on, because worrying won't help any. And as I watch Brad stare at Lee and Noah with unconcealed admiration, I realize he's probably way more excited about Noah moving back to LA than he is sad I won't be moving home.

Noah's arm is propped on the back of my chair and he's casually playing with my hair as he chats with Lee and Brad, a detail I realize has not escaped June's notice as she gives me a knowing look.

"I'd missed this version of my son," she says, only loud enough for me to hear.

And yeah, I had too. And I'd missed this version of me.

* * *

"Hey, Noah, can I borrow your height for a minute? I need some books I can't reach." I call to Noah from the stairs as he's helping Brad clean up after lunch.

"Why do you insist on storing things out of your own reach, Shelly?"

"They're within my reach if I climb the shelf. But that's hard to do right now, and I was thinking you'd rather I not attempt it."

"Yeah, we're in agreement there." Noah mutters as he follows me up the stairs.

The instant we step into my room, I push the door closed behind us and pull him down for a kiss, walking him backwards to my bed.

"You don't actually need help with any books, do you?" Noah laughs as he sits on the bed and lifts me onto his lap.

"My room was very lonely. It's missed you."

"From the look your dad shot us, I don't think anyone else believed your book excuse either."

"So I'll make sure I'm carrying books when we go back downstairs."

"And when will that be? Exactly how slowly am I retrieving these books? Maybe we could tell them you needed me to alphabetize the bookshelves, too. That should buy us a solid half hour."

"Oh, don't give me that look. I didn't lure you up here to seduce you. Or at least not... that much. And I do actually need some books I can't reach. I just _also_ wanted to do this."

"Are you sure you don't want the shelves alphabetized? I can alphabetize _very_ quietly, and as quickly or slowly as you think we can get away with." His grin is almost enough to convince me.

"I don't doubt your _alphabetization_ prowess, but the demonstration will need to wait. I really did just want to kiss you." I lounge back against the pillows, pulling Noah down with me, and we stay curled there a minute, just enjoying being here again. I wonder if he's also thinking about how long it's been since he was in this room.

"You rearranged everything," he comments eventually, so I guess we are thinking the same thing. "And repainted."

"You noticed?" I rearranged every room in the house at least twice while Dad was hospitalized. I had too many idle hours requiring distraction, and organizing felt like control.

"I do have quite a few memories of this room. Fond memories."

I prop myself on an elbow to look at Noah, my other hand playing with the buttons of his shirt. "I realized on the way over here I'd probably never live here again. Since we're moving in together, I mean."

"And—are you okay with that?" Noah asks after a pause.

"Yeah," I nod after my own long pause. "It was just a weird realization. When I packed up last August, I assumed I'd be back. I had no idea... well, about any of how this year would play out."

"Trust me, this year has been a surprise for me as well."

"A good one, I hope?" I'd meant it jokingly, but I find my voice shaking as I say it, and I can see from Noah's expression that he's taking the question seriously.

"There was some rough going for a while there. But this part, now? Yeah, the best surprise. And I don't just mean Dinah. All of it. You and me."

"You keep up this mushy talk and I might start to think you really like me."

"That's the plan, yes."


	37. The New Normal

**Four Pressing Concerns Addressed and One Deferred**

**_(Elle)_ **

Things settle down after family lunch, and it's a welcome break after the last few weeks. Not that life gets any  _slower_ , but it starts to feel more predictable as we figure out our new normal. Weekdays haven't changed much, with classes and lab and library shifts keeping me busy during the day and dinners with Mickey, but now there's Noah on the phone every night before I fall asleep. I'm also hanging out with friends more than I had all winter, when depression over October and then panic over the pregnancy had narrowed my circle nearly down to Mickey and Lee. It's my last quarter of college, not to mention my last few months of childless freedom, so I try to make the most of it. And then, on Fridays, Noah shows up and we fill our two short days together with as many conversations and adventures as possible. I keep offering to come up to San Francisco, but so far there's always been some reason to stay in LA.

We've also been spending a lot of time on all those details we'd put off dealing with while getting  _us_ straightened out. June was right about Matthew not being opposed, just a worrier, and he's got a long to-do list he likes to nag us about. He's not wrong, of course; Dinah will be here in three months and we've still got a lot of work ahead of us. We need a place to live. Noah needs a job and I'd like some kind of plan to not feel like I'm dropping out forever. There are still a lot of people who need to hear our news. And, most importantly, we need to wrap our heads around the idea that we're about to become parents.

* * *

**One: Home**

**_(Elle)_ **

We get lucky and our search for a place to live ends almost before it's begun. Noah insists that in a year or two we'll be moving so I can go to grad school, so buying doesn't make sense, and we're in agreement that we don't want an entire house and yard to worry about when we're busy wrangling an infant, so that focuses the search on apartments. Location is a bigger challenge, since we have no idea where Noah will be working. I spend several hours the week after family lunch making a list of potential neighborhoods, identifying promising apartment complexes within each, and building an intricate spreadsheet of what I think we're looking for and where we might find it. Then, on Friday, I have lunch with a classmate and mention the long list of places we need to visit over the weekend, and how I still have no idea how to decide despite my crazy spreadsheet. And then the classmate mentions her aunt's job is sending her to London for two years and that the tenants she'd found for her apartment just flaked at the last minute.

A few phone calls and a day later Noah and I are visiting that apartment, and somehow on Sunday we've signed a lease. It's not too far from our parents yet closer to downtown, there's a pool and a gym and a playground, and let's be honest, the decision was made once I saw the ice cream shop around the corner. Jen, our new landlord, is leaving all her furniture behind and tells us to just move anything we don't need into storage; she's flying out in four days and so relieved to have found replacement tenants that I think she'd agree even if we asked to paint the whole place purple. And that's how the next weekend we find ourselves sitting in what still feels like someone else's living room.

"Any minute now the actual grownups who live here are going to come home and kick us out, you know." I joke to Noah as we stretch out on the couch and watch the sun start to set out the balcony doors.

"That would be us, Shelly. We live here."

"Don't accuse me of being a grownup. And 'live' might be too strong a word when the only things of ours in this apartment are some clothes and our toothbrushes."

"I'll bring over some of my old motorcycle posters next weekend, and you can hang Christmas lights all over. I'm sure we can get this place looking way less grownup in no time."

"That would help, yes." It really would. Jen's decor is way too mature and I'm going to need a slower ramp-up from dorm living.

We spend that weekend rearranging Jen's furniture until the place feels more like ours. We keep most of her bedroom furniture, but we empty out her office to use as a nursery and I keep joking to Noah that we need to replace the bed in the spare bedroom with bunk beds for Lee and Brad. Not that Lee is likely to be around much—he hasn't made up his mind yet, but none of the jobs he's considering are in LA. A long time ago Lee and I had drawn up elaborate plans for the apartment we planned to share one day; being nine, we were most excited about our decision to install a soft-serve machine. I might need to find those plans and the accompanying red-inked list of house rules, particularly the one banning Noah, and hang them in the living room. There's a lot nine-year-old Elle didn't predict quite accurately. In my defense, though, Noah was  _really_ obnoxious to us back then.

By the time Noah heads to the airport Sunday afternoon, the apartment is starting to feel like home. Or at least, the promise of a new home and new adventures. I'm going to finish out the quarter on campus and Noah's got another six or so weeks until he can move down, but I like seeing that new key on my key ring and everything it represents. And there is no more grumbling about twin beds and no more sweet-talking Mickey into disappearing on weekends; finally we have our own place to escape to.

* * *

**Two: News**

**_(Elle)_ **

It's Lee who reminds me we aren't done sharing the news. He runs into one of my BU roommates at a party and when she asks how I'm doing Lee realizes she hasn't heard from me in years. I'd tried to keep in touch with my Boston friends after leaving, but it was hard being reminded of everything I was missing; after a while, I stopped logging in to any of my social media accounts, stopped responding to our group texts, just kind of disappeared. To be honest, none of my BU friendships were that close—I had plenty of casual friends, classmates, dorm mates, team mates, but with Noah and Lee around I never felt the need for, or had the time for, new confidantes. And then it was easier to just start fresh at UCLA, to create a new life and make new friends, and not be asked or reminded about Noah all the time.

But I do miss my old friends, and it would be nice to see any who are still in Boston when I fly out for Lee's graduation. Two years seems like too long of a silence to explain in a post that people might not even see, so I spend some time agonizing over an email. Finally, I decide to keep it simple. I apologize for dropping off the face of the earth, I update them on Dad's recovery, I explain I transferred to UCLA because he and Brad needed me around. I mention I'm coming to Boston soon, and that I'd love to see anyone still around. And then I add that it might be my last trip East for a while, because Noah and I are expecting a baby in July. And that's all I say. Some of my Boston friends knew about the break-up, others may never have heard, but either way they don't need the details or the timelines. Just the important part, which is where we are now.

I bcc everyone I've missed, then send off the message before I can second guess myself. The replies start pouring in almost immediately, my phone exploding with alerts. I almost put off looking at the responses, feeling overwhelmed, but Mickey tells me I'm being a wuss and makes me read every single one while she sits next to me on the couch. And it's kind of awesome, hearing from so many long lost friends all at once. Realizing I was missed. No one seems at all surprised Noah and I are still, or are back, together, but the baby news definitely gets some reactions. Within a few hours one of my old roommates has started organizing a get-together during my Boston trip, and now I have one more thing to look forward to that weekend.

Which leaves... the high school crowd. Besides my Flynns, Rachel is the only one I stayed in actual touch with, even after how awkward things got when she and Lee broke up. She and I haven't spoken since winter—more accurately, I haven't replied to any of her messages since January—so I guess I owe her a call and an update. The rest of the Country Day crowd I stopped hearing from once I dropped off social media; frankly, I don't miss many of them. I'm tempted to just let Noah decide whom he wants to tell, and how. Then one Friday I hear a familiarly annoying voice behind me as I wait for my drink at a coffee shop. It's Mia, and she's headed straight for me. Awesome.

"Ellen? Oh my god, it  _is_  you!"

"Uh, Mia, hey. What are you, uh, doing around here?" I'm still facing the espresso bar counter, and at first I wonder whether there's any way I can escape this conversation without ever turning around to face Mia. But what the hell, I'm not sure why I'm hiding. I turn and give her a wide smile, then enjoy her double take as her eyes sweep over me and stall over my midsection.

" _Oh. My. God._  Are you— _pregnant_?"

No, pea brain, I'm just smuggling a basketball for no apparent reason.

"Sure looks that way, doesn't it?"

" _Oh. My. God._ "

"Do you want to, uh, sit down and catch up?" I offer. At least this solves the problem of how to update the Country Day crowd: tell Mia, and within hours everyone else will know.

She follows me to a table, speechless for once in her life, and I serenely sip my iced decaf while enjoying her shock.

"Wow. Well, I'm glad you finally moved on."

I look at her curiously.

"From Flynn. I mean, we all knew that wasn't going to last. I was surprised you managed to hang on to him as long as you did. It's great you found someone else."

Right. They did all hear about the breakup, and I'm guessing the other Country Day alum in Noah's dorm at Harvard was just as eager to update them about his return to the single life as she was me. And Mia  _is_  a tremendous bitch.

"Oh, yeah. Of course. I mean, what were we even thinking? Who ever thought that would work, right?" I can't help it. I kind of want to see how deep a hole she'll dig herself.

"Well, I wasn't going to say so then... but yeah. I mean, come on, you and Flynn? Although, it's too bad. Imagine how cute  _his_  babies would be."

"Oh, I've definitely given that some thought."

The coffee shop's door opens and I bite my lip to keep from smiling as Mia leans in, thirsty for fresh gossip.

"So, spill. Tell me everything. You're back in LA? And you're pregnant? I need to hear all about this new man." Mia's eyes flick down to my left hand and its bare ring finger. "Oh, I'm sorry—is he still around, the father?"

I'd be more offended by her transparently insincere concern if I weren't trying so hard not to laugh.

"Oh yeah, he's around." Just a few more seconds to make his way through the crowded seating area...

"Elle, babe, sorry I'm late. The interview ran long."

Aaaaand there he is, fresh from another job interview in what is fast becoming my favorite suit of his. Noah gives Dinah an affectionate pat as he sits down, and I really couldn't have scripted this better.

" _Oh. My. God_."

Yeah, I'm starting to remember why she and her clique got that name. Mia is gaping at us and Noah finally notices I'm not alone at the table.

"Mia, hey. I didn't realize you were still in LA. So, you two catching up?" Noah politely inquires.

"Well, we just sat down. I hadn't had a chance yet to tell her much. Mia, you remember Noah, right?" I ask her with a dazzling smile.

And as predicted, by the end of the day our entire graduating classes, not to mention a few before and after us, have been alerted to this apparently earth-shaking development. I get a message from Tuppen congratulating us and thanking me for winning him the pool, and I probably don't want to know what exactly they were betting on or what the losing guesses were. Rachel is thrilled, too—I hurry to call her as soon as Mia is gone, wanting to tell her personally before Mia starts alerting the world. She's living in New York now, and as always I feel a pang of regret that it didn't work out with Lee.

So that's another task satisfyingly checked off our to-do list.

* * *

**Three: Parenthood**

**_(Noah)_ **

The news is finally fully out, and the consensus from my high school and college friends seems to be a lack of surprise about our being back together, some surprise about the baby, and extreme skepticism of my parenting skills. So, thanks for  _that_  vote of confidence. Lee and Adam agree I'm in need of guidance, judging from the books recently delivered to my doorstep. Adam's contribution is sincere: he rounded up the books his sisters told him were most useful. Lee's contribution is rather less helpful: it's a picture book entitled  _The Complete Idiot's Guide to Babies_ , and he's scrawled additional advice on the cover in black marker:  _Just do whatever Elle and Mom tell you to do_.

They're not wrong that I know nothing about babies, but it's not the practical aspects of parenthood that I'm worried about. Look, I'm a reasonably smart guy and Elle's a genius, so between the two of us I'm sure we can figure out how to keep a baby alive. No, it's the bigger picture stuff that has me up at night. The unending responsibility. The need to make decisions based on Dinah's best interests, not mine or even ours. The disrupted expectations. Not much more than a month ago I was making plans for a very different looking summer, a very different looking next year. I'm glad for the changes, but it's still a lot to wrap my head around in a very short time. And again and again I remind myself that none of this is any easier for Elle; she's known a little longer than I have, but she's also had more to deal with. So I'm glad we've got housing sorted out and are done sharing the news, because I think we need to spend the next few weekends ignoring the rest of the world and just letting ourselves adjust, together, to this whole new landscape.

But it's probably for the best that we can't ignore the rest of the world all week long, because I'm also realizing we can't do this without our friends. Or shouldn't try, at least. Adam's book delivery reassures me not because we couldn't have come up with that information on our own, but because it's evidence of one more person in our corner, watching out. And Lee was right when he'd said Mickey was probably my best ally in all of this—I hate to think what this winter would have been like for Elle without her. And, yeah, then there's Lee; I might be willing to go so far as to admit that my brother has his moments and that having him on our side is better than the alternative.

Adam's the one who brings up Mother's Day, asking whether I'm planning anything for Elle. To which I have no answer. Not because it hadn't occurred to me that the holiday has taken on new relevance, but because I just don't know how, or even whether, to acknowledge that. It's been a hard day for Elle ever since her mom died, and in the past she's opted to ignore it as much as possible. There's not really any good way to find out what she'd prefer other than to just ask, and so I do, later that evening as we video chat.

"So, Mother's Day is coming up. And I know you usually want nothing to do with it, but I wasn't sure if that's still what you want. Or whether it would be okay for us to celebrate. Since it's... your day now, too."

Elle doesn't respond right away, and I watch her twist at her bracelet, chewing on her lip, before finally answering.

"I think I'd rather not do anything. If that's okay with you. Maybe next year I'll want to celebrate, but I'm not ready this year. But—thank you for asking."

"Should I clear out for the day? Or stick around and we'll just—ignore the holiday?"

"I'd like to be on my own," she admits after another long pause, still fussing at her bracelet rather than looking at me. "Go see your mom. I'll do my own thing for the day."

It's about what I expected she'd say, and we don't discuss it further, but I keep thinking about it after our call. Even if Elle doesn't want to celebrate, I can't help wanting to acknowledge the milestone in some way. She'd looked torn as she weighed her words to answer me, and finally it occurs to me what she'd been anxiously tugging and twisting at. That bracelet was Joni's, and Elle has worn it almost daily since Mike gave it to her on her eighteenth birthday. It's a narrow gold chain with half a dozen tiny inset rubies interspersed, and suddenly I know what I want. I ask Mickey to send me a picture of the bracelet, to be sure I'm remembering it right, and then I go hunting online.

That weekend we make no mention of the holiday, and on Sunday morning we part for the week earlier than usual so I can meet my mom for lunch. I don't ask Elle what she's got planned for the day, but before leaving I tuck a small box under her pillow. Elle doesn't acknowledge the present right away, but the next time we video chat I can't help a satisfied grin when I catch a flash of crimson as she tucks her hair behind her ear.

"You're very bad at following directions. I'm fairly certain I said you didn't need to do anything for Mother's Day," Elle comments when she realizes what I'm looking at.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You had no role in these showing up under my pillow?"

"Absolutely none. Cross my heart."

"Well, that's too bad. If you'd had I'd thank you. They match perfectly."

Which I already knew, because I'd sat them side by side while Elle was still asleep Sunday morning. The ruby studs set in gold are nearly identical to those in her bracelet, and sometimes it pays to have years of experience in judging which of Elle's directions I can safely ignore.

* * *

**Four: Employment**

**_(Noah)_ **

The logistical aspects of getting ready for Dinah are less overwhelming; those, I can make concrete plans to address.

Our living situation got figured out faster than I expected, both in terms of Elle's confidence about moving in together and Jen's apartment falling into our laps. Knowing where we'll be living, and getting to settle in already, eliminates one major source of uncertainty. There are probably a million things we need in order to get that apartment ready for a baby, but my mom would be only too happy to take on that project and I have no problem delegating it to her while we deal with the harder questions. She and Mickey are planning some kind of shower for Elle the weekend before we fly out to Lee's graduation, but I'm choosing to stay entirely ignorant of that craziness. I'll show up where I'm told, if requested.

My job search is another reassuringly concrete way of feeling like I'm doing  _something_  to get ready. Natalie's bosses invited me back for a longer round of interviews two weeks after the first, and now I'm waiting to hear back. I'm also talking with a few other companies and firms I'd reached out to myself or via friends, and I placate Dad by meeting with some of his contacts. Joining Dad's firm remains the line I won't cross, but he's starting to understand that. Nothing's settled yet, but things are moving forward; it's satisfying to at least feel on top of  _this_  item on our to-do list, even if it has been a hectic few weeks. Between visiting Elle and interviewing, it almost feels like I'm in LA more often than San Francisco, but it's not like my current job is getting any easier with end of year exams approaching. Elle is increasingly busy, too, writing term papers and gearing up for her last round of finals, and I doubt life will slow down for either of us until she's graduated and I've moved down for good. I'm crossing my fingers Dinah doesn't get any ideas about making an early appearance, because we are going to need every bit of that month between Elle's graduation and her due date to recover from this spring before everything gets  _really_  crazy.

Elle actually lands a job before I do, which is a relief, because the idea of having nothing lined up after graduation clearly bothered her. Not that she'd be sitting idle, since obviously Dinah is going to be a job in herself at first, but I know that's not what Elle had envisioned for herself after college. She's been busting her ass in class and in the lab for years, so she's understandably uneasy about walking away from all that, even if only temporarily. It's Elle's advisor who comes through with an unexpectedly ideal proposal: she's swamped with research articles she needs to prepare for publication and she just got asked to co-author a textbook, and there's no way all of that will happen without some help. It wouldn't be anywhere close to full-time and the work could be done remotely at whatever odd hours Elle can spare while Dinah's asleep or when I'm home, but it would keep Elle in the thick of research and look good on her resume when she decides what she wants to do next.

So that's another item on our list I can tell myself we're making progress on.

* * *

**And One Deferred**

**_(Noah)_ **

There's one topic we're still avoiding, though, and it's the one my dad seems most intent on nagging about. His take on all of this turns out to be pretty simple: he's slowly admitting he's okay with the outcome, but not the way we got there. The two of us together and a baby on the way? That part he's happy about, at least now that he's gotten over the shock. But there was a right way to get there, according to Dad, and our path wasn't it. The solution, to him, is simple: get ourselves on that right track immediately. Move here, get a real job, and oh yeah, get married. Those first two I have no objections to, but the third puts me in the interesting position of arguing against something I absolutely want.

Yeah, I want to marry Elle. I've wanted to for a long time, no matter how much time I've also spent trying to convince myself to get over her. That last summer we spent together, before Mike's accident sent us reeling, was when I first admitted to myself I hoped to, someday. This October I realized that hadn't changed, and that I wanted that  _someday_  sooner rather than later, having wasted two years already. And then this spring I discovered those feelings still hadn't dimmed despite five months of telling myself it was over, even if our situation had suddenly gotten a lot more complicated.

And that's the problem. That's why Dad's badgering has me arguing against what I most want. Because as much as I want to marry Elle, I don't want to marry her like this—because of a  _situation_ , and an accidental one at that—and I suspect she feels the same way. If she's even feeling ready to think about marriage at all without panicking, which is its own separate issue and reason to take things slowly.

Dad's got a dozen reasons why we should. They're all pragmatic and logical and none of them are why I would want us to get married. To make the legal situation simpler. So my insurance will cover her. To make for an easier estate plan, because apparently that's a thing I'm going to need now. I'm also pretty sure Dad would prefer to refer to Elle as his daughter in law when he announces the news to friends, rather than his frustrating son's on-again, off-again girlfriend, but that's his hangup, not mine.

And maybe I'm too stubborn for my own good, but I've waited too long for this to do it for any of those reasons, or any reason other than because we  _want_ to. It's not even been two months since I spotted Elle and learned the news, and right now I just want us to enjoy where we are and  _breathe_  for a minute. So I tell Dad it's not up for discussion and I tell myself I'll think about it later. Hopefully not too much later, but not  _this minute_. Because where we are right now is amazing but also overwhelming, full of promise and potential and terrifying unknowns, and we need a moment to adjust to it all. And it doesn't matter what we're labeling ourselves or our relationship as long as we agree our future is joint.

We've got a place that's ours, we're close to having jobs worked out, everyone finally knows, and we're slowly wrapping our heads around the idea of becoming parents in another two months. That's more than enough for now.

* * *

 

**_Overly Long Author's Note:_ ** **_I needed a way to organize this chapter so it could provide a rapid overview of the five weeks following family lunch without feeling completely disjointed, and so I reached for Ye Olde 4 Times/One Time structure._ ** **_Let's call it... "Four Pressing Concerns Addressed and One Deferred." It's not an entirely traditional application of 4+1, and maybe it didn't work so well, but... it got the chapter finished. Which means we can move on to the next phase of the story and everything I've got planned there, all of which I'm_ so  _excited for._**

**_TIMELINE REFRESHER:_** a recent timeline recap, because Lord knows I'd be lost without my giant annotated calendar.

March 18, 2021: Lee visits Elle and finds out.

Saturday, March 27: Noah finds out.

Weekend of April 2-4: Elle visits Noah in San Francisco.

Weekend of April 9-11: Noah surprises Elle with a visit; lunch with June.

Weekend of April 16-18: Sonogram, Lee shows up, family lunch.

Weekend of April 23-25: Visiting and leasing apartment.

Weekend of April 30-May 2: First weekend in the apartment; run-in with Mia.

Weekend of May 7-9: Mother's Day.

We'll pick up again two weeks after Mother's Day.


	38. Utterly Ridiculous

_**(Elle)** _

Mickey has refused to tell me much about the baby shower she and June are organizing for the weekend before Lee's graduation, other than to reassure me that she's done her best to rein in June's more extravagant ideas. She does make me go shopping for a nice dress for the shower, and she insists the flowy blue silk dress we find looks great, although I don't really believe her.

"I look like a giant blueberry. Like the gum-chomping girl in _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ who doesn't listen to Willie Wonka and swells up into an enormous blueberry." I whine to Mickey as I stare into the dressing room mirror, trying to make up my mind.

"For the last time, you look amazing. Do I need to send Noah a picture and make _him_ tell you that?"

"Yeah, like he's unbiased. He has to be nice to me because it's all his fault. And do I really need to dress up this much? You can't convince June to make this a leggings-and-tee-shirt kind of shindig?"

"I only just barely talked her out of tuxedoed waiters. Be glad this isn't black-tie and let June have her fun."

"I do love her, you know. She just scares me sometimes."

Mickey quirks an eyebrow at me. "You do realize this is just her practice run, right?"

"Her practice run? For the party-planning business she's clearly always dreamed of running?"

"For your wedding, Elle."

Ah, that. Not that there is a _that_ , nor do I wish to talk about the possibility of _that_ , so I wish she'd stop joking about it.

Mickey notices my grim expression and rolls her eyes. "Sorry. I forgot that was the forbidden subject."

"Whatever. And if you say I have to wear a dress, I guess this one's not the worst."

It really isn't so bad. It's my favorite shade of blue, the empire waist is making the most of my currently ridiculous bust, and I'll just try to ignore exactly how many yards of floaty cerulean blue silk are required for the skirt to drape loosely over my ever-expanding belly. I'm getting to the point where I look enormous no matter what I wear, even if Mickey swears that's not true, and, terrifyingly, that's with nearly two months to go.

* * *

The shower does not turn out nearly as over the top as Mickey had led me to dread, although that could just be evidence of her skill at moderating June. June hosts it at her house, and while I probably don't want to know how much those flowers or that cake cost, for the most part it feels like she's invited my friends and I over for a very elegant brunch.

Well, my friends and hers—there are several of June's and my mom's friends I hadn't seen in years, all eager to tell me how much I look like her and how thrilled she'd be. Which is... heartening but also hard to hear, especially over and over. It's not like there's ever been a day when I forget she's not here, but pregnancy has brought a new level of reckoning with her absence. Some things you're just meant to have your mom for, you know? But at least I have June.

Mickey notices me starting to look melancholy as yet another of Mom's friends tearily embraces me, and she sweeps me off to talk with some of our friends instead. Most of the guests our age are UCLA friends, but Mickey also invited the Boston and high school friends I recently reconnected with, and several of those living nearby have shown up. For the first time, all the phases of my life are represented in one place, laughing and trading embarrassing stories about me, and it's nice to finally feel like my life has been one winding journey and not a collection of disjointed stages.

The best surprise, though, is Rachel, who flew all the way from New York to be here. I'm sure being in this house again is all kinds of weird for her, but seeing her is amazing and we escape to a quiet balcony with mimosas—well, a mimosa for her, seltzer and OJ for me—and a plate of pastries to catch up. She's got news to share, too—she's just gotten engaged.

"How did we get so old? Seriously, look at us," I tell Rachel as we sprawl on lounge chairs and enjoy the Flynns' ridiculous view. "I'm going to be someone's mom soon and you're getting married."

"Well, I won't actually be married for a while—we're going to wait for next summer. You'll probably beat me to it."

"Oh God, Rachel, not you too. There are no wedding plans. There do not need to be wedding plans. The having-a-baby plans are quite enough."

"Sore subject?" Rachel asks apologetically.

"Annoying subject. It's like people lose their minds when they see the belly and no ring."

"Sorry. Although, for the record, the baby isn't why I said that. You two have been headed this way a long time. Lee must be relieved."

"Lee? Lee's getting used to us again, but I'm not sure 'relieved' is the right word."

"Elle, Lee realized about halfway through senior year you two were meant for each other. He was just worried you wouldn't manage to grow up fast enough to avoid splitting up for some stupid reason."

"Funny how Lee never shared that particular insight with me back then. And I guess we proved his fears right."

Rachel knows most of the story, and I caught her up on October and its aftermath when I called to tell her I was pregnant.

"Yeah, but things are good _now_ , right? Anyway, I won't joke about wedding bells; I should have guessed you're hearing enough of that already. I'm just so thrilled you two are back together."

"I'm thrilled for _you_ , too, and I've really got to meet this Brian one day. Does... Lee know? Can I tell him?"

"He doesn't, but sure. We haven't talked in a while, beyond birthday texts."

"He'll be glad to hear. Although, probably also terrified that yet another person his age is getting married. Lee's not quite ready to admit we're growing up."

"I can see that," Rachel replies with a grin. I'm glad it's not awkward anymore.

"June teased him about this baby needing a cousin soon and he practically had a heart attack. It was awesome."

"Lee with a baby... now there's a terrifying thought. But he's going to rock the uncle thing."

" _He_ definitely thinks so. And it's his new excuse for meddling—for his niece's sake, you see."

"Maybe I'll call him for his birthday this year. It would be nice to catch up."

"He'd like that. And thanks for flying out here for the shower. Having everybody here has been amazing. I know this is going to sound dumb, but it took me a while for me to believe people were actually happy for us."

"Why wouldn't they be?"

"Because we... didn't go about this the right way. I mean, it's pretty obvious this was accidental. And then I screwed it up even more by freaking out and shutting Noah out for so long. Well, I guess not everyone knows that part. But still. I guess I just felt kind of... embarrassed."

"Yeah, that does sound really dumb." Rachel laughs. "Let's go back in so you can see again how little anybody cares about any of that."

* * *

June informed Noah that he was to make an appearance near the end of the shower, and he dutifully shows up in time to help me open the mountain of gifts and to listen politely as the older women insist on imparting their childrearing wisdom. I'd be more confident in their advice if they didn't keep contradicting each other. The baby should sleep in its own room from day one, but also sleep in our room for at least the first three months. Pacifiers are terrible but also absolutely necessary. Feed the baby on demand but also on a strict schedule. At least they're no longer telling me their labor horror stories now that Noah is here too.

As much as I enjoyed seeing everyone, it's a relief once the last guest has left and June shoos me and Noah out of the house, saying she and Mickey can handle the cleanup. Well, she and Mickey and the half dozen catering staff. I'd promised to attend a classmate's gallery opening this evening, and afterward Noah and I linger over a late dinner. I've talked to more people today than in the last month combined, I'm pretty sure, so I'm happy to let Noah do most of the talking. We're downtown at one of our old favorite restaurants, seated upstairs by the windows, and after a while I realize why traffic in the street has slowed to a crawl and why we keep hearing gleeful teenage shrieks and whoops.

"Look," I tell Noah, tipping my head at the window. "You see all those limos? And that guy on the steps with the clipboard?"

Noah peers down at the street, and he figures it out too.

"Is that Mr. Morin?"

"Sure looks like it. I didn't realize they'd moved prom earlier."

There, across the street, stands our favorite former principal, looking harried as students in formal dress stream past him into what must be this year's LA Country Day prom.

"Damn. Those kids were, what, sixth graders when we were there?" Noah asks.

"Probably."

"God, that feels like a lifetime ago."

And maybe it does to him, but the memories currently flooding my mind feel pretty fresh. Fresh and still a little painful. You wouldn't think senior prom could have gone worse than junior year, but it turns out that breaking up the day before prom makes for an even more painful experience. Lee convinced me to go anyway—he was nursing his own broken heart, the breakup with Rachel still being recent—and promised we'd have fun dancing and making fun of everyone else, but it was hard to think about anything that night other than how furious I was at Noah.

Speaking of, I guess he's noticed my change in mood because he reaches for my hand.

"Would now be a good time for me to apologize yet again for being an ass about you turning down Stanford?"

I give him a wry smile. "We both overreacted. But yes. Now would be a good time."

The waitress arrives with our desserts—to be more accurate, my dessert and the one I made Noah order because I didn't want to admit I was ordering two desserts—and the interruption distracts us from our disastrous prom memories. I'm still watching the kids pile out of their limos and pose on the steps, but now I'm wondering what dramas and heartbreaks are simmering unseen.

After a minute I notice the devilish grin with which Noah is watching me watch the scene below.

"You know, I was thinking, you're still in that pretty dress, I've still got this suit on..."

He cannot be serious.

"Please tell me you're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting."

"Why not? We never did get that dance." His eyes have that twinkle and he's giving me that smile and yeah, the absolute lunatic _is_ serious.

"Our prom record is abysmal. I don't think we should risk it, if only for Dinah's sake."

"You don't think we've gotten a little wiser? This is our chance to improve that record."

God help me, I'm actually considering it. It's that stupid irresistible grin he gets when he's talking me into a truly ridiculous scheme and apparently seven years haven't been enough for me to build up any resistance to it.

"There is no way we can sneak in undetected. You don't think every one of those former middle schoolers knew who you were? Not to mention Mr. Morin."

"Oh, we're not going to sneak in. We're doing this right."

And that's how a short while later I find myself walking up the steps straight to my former principal. Noah convinced our waitress to let us swipe the flowers from our table, because of course he did, so now I've improvised a wrist corsage using hair elastics and my bracelet, and I've made Noah pin the last of the flowers at his lapel using a safety pin I found in my purse. If we're going to crash prom, we might as well do it in style. I wish I could blame this folly on alcohol but, alas, we're both dead sober.

Principal Morin spots us and I watch his eyebrows climb ever higher as we approach.

"Mr. Flynn, Miss Evans. You seem to be confused what year it is. And I see congratulations are in order."

"See, that's the thing. We've been going over our bucket list ahead of this baby arriving, and we realized we never managed to check off attending prom together." I'm blushing madly as I say it but we may as well go for it. "So we were hoping you'd let us fix that. You know, for the baby's sake." I give him my best pleading look. "Just twenty minutes and then we'll disappear."

"I recall trouble having a way of following you two around."

"Oh, we've reformed. Promise." I assure him. It's... not a total lie?

"I'm teaching high school now. You know, due to your inspiring example." Noah manages an impressively straight face as he says it. "So I'm actually _very_ experienced at preventing teens from having any fun at parties. Think of us as... extra chaperones."

"And I promise to snitch on anyone I see with a flask. If _I_ can't drink, they can't either. Plus, think how terrifying this belly is going to be. Best contraceptive scare tactic ever."

Mr. Morin sighs wearily, then rolls his eyes in resignation. "Very well. Twenty minutes. But any shenanigans, any hint of a smoke bomb or a fight, and you're out of here immediately."

"I told you, we're totally reformed now. Complete and utter killjoys."

"I'll believe that when I see it. But go ahead. Consider it my baby present. And just to be clear... you are to _socialize_ only with each other."

"Not a problem." Noah grins.

Thankfully, this year's prom committee seems to have gone for a dimly-lit ambiance, and we manage to escape notice as we walk in. I spot an alcove off to a side of the dance floor and we sit there a minute, just laughing at each other.

"So, phase one successful. We are both present at prom, together, and we are on speaking terms. Do we dare have a dance, or would that just be pushing our luck?" Noah asks.

"Maybe let's wait for slightly less frenetic music."

"I bet I can do something about that." Noah is up and out of the alcove before I can protest, walking straight to the DJ and leaning in to be heard. And while we'd managed to escape detection on our way in, he's definitely been recognized now, and curious eyes eagerly follow him as he makes his way back to the alcove and extends a hand to me. I'm wondering what in the world he requested from the DJ. And then the song starts up and I stop and glare at him, my hands at my hips.

"Really? _This_? _This_ is what you specially requested? I thought the goal was for us to get through prom _without_ a fight."

My sophomore year roommate at BU loved this song. Loved this song so much she listened to it _constantly_. I'm not actually sure she owned any other music. Just _this song_. On loop. And Noah absolutely knows this, because he heard me complain about it practically every day.

"Hey, hear me out. I know Kara drove you nuts with this song. But that's the point. I heard this in the background every time I called. It was like the soundtrack for that whole year. And then I spent three years avoiding this song. I even had to boycott Starbucks for a few months when they had it on their playlist. But recently, well, now I like hearing it again."

And he has a point. Because I don't only think of Kara every time I hear this song; I think of her for a split second, and then I think of Noah and Boston and being nineteen and so damn happy. "Fine," I mutter, letting him pull me closer.

We must look absolutely comical, and not just because we're way too old to be here. I changed into flats as soon as the shower was over, unable to bear the cute heels Mickey made me buy for one minute longer, so Noah is towering over me more than usual, and there's a whole lot of belly getting in the way. And I'm pretty sure I just heard my brother's name, so now the teens have recognized me too. But to hell with it, we're here and we're happy, so I'm not going to worry about how absurd this whole scheme is. I find a way to lean my head against Noah, and I'm hardly even pretending to dance, just going for classic middle-school-formal slow-song swaying.

"So, we finally got our dance at prom. Is it everything you hoped for?"

"Yes, this was definitely _exactly_ how I always pictured it. Especially the hugely pregnant part." I laugh.

"You're not huge, Shell."

"There are teenagers whispering and pointing at me in terror."

"That's because they're terrified I'll notice that they're talking about how hot you are. I have a reputation."

"You _had_ a reputation, past tense. You've reformed, remember?"

"But they don't need to know that."

I snuggle in closer and just enjoy this utterly ridiculous moment.

The thing is, this actually _is_ how I always pictured it. Not... the being pregnant and crashing prom as dorky old alums part. But being in Noah's arms, feeling like this? Yeah. I think back to Rachel's comment, that Lee worried we'd screw this up before getting mature enough to do this right. And he was right, but thank God for second chances.


	39. Familiar Views

_**(Noah)** _

As busy as we all are with the last few weeks of classes and final exams looming, my friends and I have been dawdling at the lunch table, realizing how few of these times we have left together. I'm not the only one leaving, and our gang will scatter soon.

As usual, Gwen is pestering me for updates on Elle, eager to hear about my weekend and our plans for the dwindling number of weeks before Dinah shows up. The guys are less driven to gossip; they just like any opportunity to give me a hard time.

"Are we _ever_ going to see Elle again? If you weren't hiding her from us I wouldn't have to bug you for updates so often." Gwen finally asks in frustration.

"I'm not hiding her. We've been busy. In LA."

"You mean you're not hiding her _anymore_. And I still don't get why you kept all this top-secret for so long." Neil complains.

"I didn't."

Adam shoots me a curious look but says nothing.

"What?" Neil looks confused.

"We weren't actually together most of this year. Or even speaking. We reunited briefly, things blew up, we ignored each other until the baby made us get some sense. And even that took a while." I'm sick of lying, and I don't think Elle will mind my friends knowing. We've both gotten more comfortable being upfront about this year. It's one thing not to share every detail with folks we hadn't talked to in ages, like the high school crowd, but these guys see me every day and I'm done pretending they just never noticed what was going on.

"Wait, what?" Parker looks as floored as Neil, but Gwen's expression is more intrigued than surprised.

"Look, I'm sorry we didn't tell the whole truth initially. Things were still really recent and weird and we didn't feel like getting into it. But no, I didn't actually keep anything secret other than having seen Elle last fall. You guys found out the rest not long after I did."

Gwen turns to Parker, palm extended and smiling smugly. "Pay up. I told you that story was crap."

Parker rolls his eyes but withdraws a twenty from his wallet and hands it over as Gwen turns her triumphant look to me.

"These guys may be unobservant enough to have bought it, but you've been an entirely new person this spring. And you were pretty damn unpleasant all winter. No way you'd been secretly and happily seeing Elle since summer. But your coconspirator Adam here deserves an award; I've been trying to get the truth from him for weeks and he hasn't blinked."

"You're welcome," Adam tells me. "But if you're into total honesty today, does that mean I can tell them about your Saturday night?"

"I don't know, _can_ you?" _I_ haven't told him anything.

"But it's such a _romantic_ story. I wouldn't want anyone to miss out." Adam bats his eyes at me.

I should have guessed that the reason Adam isn't bugging me about my weekends anymore is that he's getting his updates straight from Elle.

"Go ahead. You've clearly been itching to share this gossip for days."

"Our sentimental friend here crashed his high school's prom so he could finally make up for never taking Elle. And if you're thinking you need to see this to believe it, good news, I have photographic evidence."

Adam's phone gets passed around, much mockery ensues, and I really don't mind at all.

"Yeah, like I said. Having now witnessed you under the influence of Elle, zero percent chance I'd believe you were together all year long. Although I wish you _had_ been, because you're a lot more fun when you're happy." Gwen laughs at me. She has a point.

"Well, you can tell her that yourself in two weeks. Despite your belief that I am hiding her from you all, she's coming up here the weekend after next."

"Which means farewell party and drunken baby shower Saturday night at my place. Elle and I already planned this." Adam adds. Of course they did.

"Why can't we see her _this_ weekend? More interviews in LA?" Gwen asks.

"Nope. My brother's graduation, in Boston." I'm also hoping there won't be need for more interviews, but I'll update them on that once things are official.

"And then? When do you actually move?"

"Elle graduates the day after classes end here, and she and Lee are having their birthday party that weekend, so unless I manage to get everything packed early I'll fly back after that for a few days to wrap things up here."

Which means in three weeks I'll be out of here. The last weeks of the school year have always been hectic, whether on the student side or the teacher side, but this time I can't tell myself there'll be a lazy summer afterward. We're doing what we can to get ready, and the rest we'll figure out along the way, but in the meantime I'm going to make the most of these moments before everything gets really crazy.

* * *

_**(Elle)** _

Despite Dr. Kim having okayed me flying to Boston this far along, Noah has become exactly as overprotective and overcautious as Lee predicted, and initially he insists he'll fly to LA so he can then fly to Boston with me, but I manage to move him off that plan by pointing out I can fly with June. Which is why she and I are now settling in for the six hour flight in neighboring seats in first class, a concession I made at both of their insistence. And on this point I'm willing to let them be extravagant, because the idea of squeezing myself into an economy seat for that long right now is entirely unappealing. I've had to reconcile myself to a lot of Flynn extravagances on my behalf lately, not least of which the fact that rent on our apartment is being paid from the trust fund I'd tried to ignore for so long, and that my contribution to our expenses is going to be more symbolic than anything else.

The money thing has always been a little awkward. It's not like my parents were struggling, but sometimes the gap between _comfortably well-off_ and _grandad founded the third-largest semiconductor chip manufacturer_ was hard to ignore. Most notably when it came to college decisions, but that's a fight we're done rehashing. Generally, though, I've grown to accept that I can't keep Noah, or Lee for that matter, from spending his money the way he wants to, even when that means spending it on me. I mean, when the options were _not see Noah until Christmas_ or _let Noah buy an absurd number of cross-country plane tickets_ , at some point my pride had to give way. At least these days I can tell myself it's for Dinah, and there's really no way to object to that. And, obviously, it'd be ridiculous to complain about not having to worry about money on top of all the stuff we _do_ need to worry about. It's just... weird. But it is what it is, and I'll just have to get over the weirdness.

I have a stack of lecture notes I should be studying for my last final next week, not to mention a term paper to edit, but I let myself put those off so I can enjoy being with June. Between organizing the baby shower and taking over nursery set-up, June's been single-handedly ensuring Dinah won't show up to completely unprepared parents. Well, at least not _materially_ unprepared. For once, though, she and I are talking about something other than the baby, laughing over pictures Lee sent of a finals-week hack of MIT's Great Dome that he absolutely positively denies any involvement in.

The flight attendants have been doting on me, and one stops by as June and I are chatting to ask if I'd like another of the freshly-baked cookies they'd served shortly after takeoff. When I sheepishly admit yes, she puts three on a plate.

"One for you, one for the baby, and one for your mom." She tells me with a wink.

I stammer a bit as I thank her, but I don't really have the heart to correct her. It's not the first time June and I have been assumed to be mother and daughter, and it's always a little awkward. June says nothing while the flight attendant is still within earshot, then squeezes my hand.

"I take it as the highest compliment every time, even if I feel guilty getting Joni's credit." June says wistfully.

Some of the credit is rightfully hers at this point, but it seems weird to actually admit that, and June goes on before I can figure out how to reply.

"You know, if she were here, I'd owe her a big _I told you so_." June laughs.

"Why?"

"She never quite believed me about you and Noah."

June likes to remind us she predicted this long before we had a clue. That she'd watched Noah watch me, watched him pretend to ignore me and Lee while never missing a word I said. Watched _me_ goad Noah into arguments every chance I got. But she'd never mentioned my mom's thoughts on the possibility.

"You don't think Mom would have wanted this?"

"Sweetie, no, that's not what I meant at all. But she thought I was reading way too much into a few shy glances, and that if it _was_ anything, it was just a crush you'd both get over long before realizing it was mutual. But she wasn't at my house seeing everything I saw, and then she didn't get the chance to see it evolve. But she would have been thrilled to be proven wrong."

"You think? Because Dad took some convincing."

"Yes, well, I'll be the first to admit Noah didn't have the smartest ways of ignoring his feelings for you. Teenagers aren't the most reasonable creatures, but I'll let you both discover that in thirteen years. Anyway, I meant she'd be thrilled now."

"Even with the mess we made this year?"

"She'd be thrilled _now_. The rest is details. And anyway, it doesn't matter what she or I thought back then. Regardless of whether anyone would have predicted this, you two seem to be set on each other, even after the last few years' inexplicable efforts not to be."

June turns back to the pictures she'd been scrolling through and I figure she's moved on, but then I hear her mutter "But I _did_ absolutely tell her so."

* * *

June and I split up into separate cabs once we land in Boston. She and Matthew—he'll be flying in separately, directly from some business trip—are staying downtown, while Noah wanted to stay in Cambridge, closer to Lee and to Harvard. Noah had to teach this morning, so he'll arrive late tonight, giving me and Lee an evening to ourselves.

Everything feels so familiar, looks so much the same, and it's tempting to let myself believe I've just come back from a short trip home and that I haven't been gone for almost three years. I drop my bags at the hotel and decide to walk to Lee's apartment. Some of the storefronts have changed, but for the most part the walk is just as I remember it, and I find I don't have to check the map once to navigate myself from Harvard to MIT. The walk does, however, take a lot longer than it did when I wasn't nearly eight months pregnant, and it's a little trippy to remember that detail every time I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a store window. Everything around me may look the same, but _I_ don't. But it's fun to pretend for just a minute that the clock has turned three years back.

I'm glad to find a bench outside Lee's building, and I collapse there with relief after sending him a text to let him know I've arrived. Lee emerges from the building within minutes, and his eyes widen when I stand up and he gets the full view of my ever more ridiculous belly. I should tell Mickey to copy him on those picture updates she's still un-secretly sending Noah, so at least Lee's not shocked every time he sees me for the first time in a month.

"Don't say it," I warn him.

"It's just—oh, come on. How can I not say it?"

I roll my eyes. "Fine. Go ahead. Tell me how enormous I am."

"I mean, it's not like you're huge in a _bad_ way. But holy crap, how can you still have almost two months to go?"

"Thank you. You wouldn't believe how infrequently people tell me that and how much I love hearing it every time."

"Did you seriously walk all the way here?"

"Yes, Lee, I'm not an invalid." Although I'm not going to admit to him how long it took, and that I fully intend to take the T or the bus back. "And, ew, why are you so gross and sweaty?"

"I've been packing all day and my landlord still hasn't switched the AC on for the summer."

"Well, it _is_ Boston. It was probably still snowing two weeks ago."

"Close. No May flurries this year, but only just barely. Come on, come hang out while I get cleaned up."

Lee's apartment is a crazy, half-packed mess, and I have to shove piles of laundry aside to make room to sit on his bed while he goes to shower. I may not have been in this particular apartment before, but I recognize enough of Lee's stuff from his earlier dorm rooms to feel right at home. Mickey's online, and she and I end up chatting so I can rate the outfits she's considering for her department's senior awards dinner tonight. I don't even notice Lee has wandered back in from the shower until Mickey wolf whistles and I realize a towel-clad Lee just walked behind me, right past my phone camera.

"Elle, did you forget to mention you were FaceTiming?" an exasperated Lee asks.

"It's just Mickey. Don't worry, she's already got a hot boyfriend; she's not going to stalk you."

"I don't know, tell Lee to walk by again, and more slowly this time." Mickey jokes.

"I'm really not comfortable being broadcast without warning." Lee complains.

"So put some clothes on."

"That's what I was trying to do, and _it's_ _my room_."

"I'm here." I point out.

"You don't count. You know that."

"Tell Lee I'm turning off the video and will do my best to wipe this incident from memory." Mickey laughs.

But Lee has already stalked off to dress in the bathroom, and by the time he returns I'm off the call.

"Is it safe, or am I being live streamed again? Because if so I demand half of the ad revenue."

"Don't flatter yourself. And if I can survive walking in on you and Rachel, Mickey can survive this."

"Thanks for reminding me. It had _almost_ slipped my mind that ever happened, so I'm glad you've refreshed my memory." Lee groans.

"You're welcome. Speaking of Rachel—okay, that's an unfortunate transition. Maybe, ah, let's talk about other stuff for a while and then I'll bring up Rachel not immediately after that memory."

"Too late now, so go ahead with whatever you were going to say. I already heard she was at the baby shower."

"Yeah, she's living in New York now but she made it to the shower anyway; it was great seeing her. And she had some news, too. I told you she met a guy during her semester abroad, right?"

"Yeah. Ryan or something."

"Brian. Well, uh, they're still together and they just got engaged." I'm suddenly wondering if Lee even wants to know. But I think he does. It's been forever and several girlfriends ago, and he usually likes it when I give him Rachel updates.

"Oh." I can't read his expression at first, but eventually it resolves into an awkward smile.

"Should I... not have told you?"

"No, I'm glad you did. Just a little surprised. It's weird to think about Rachel getting married. Mostly because we're still, like, eighteen in my head. I mean, I know we're not, but we were the last time I saw her."

"She seems really happy."

"I'm glad. Have you met him?"

"No, but she said they might visit LA later this summer." There's an awkward pause. "Are you sure you want to talk about this?"

"Elle, it's okay, I'm not hung up on Rachel. We don't all meet our soulmates in high school. Or, ugh, the day you were born and once again, I will never understand how this doesn't feel incestuous to you two, but whatever, I've moved on."

I'm not sure it counts as "meeting" if neither of us has any memory of it, but yes, there is a picture from the hospital of a _very_ unenthused-looking Noah sitting on June's lap as my mom holds me and Lee.

"Yes, I can really tell you've moved on, given your near-daily harping on it. Anyway, that's really all the updates I had about Rachel, I just thought you'd want to know. And I figured it would be weirder telling you at dinner, with Jenna there."

"Jenna knows about Rachel, and it wouldn't be weird. Again, you forget it's not actually normal for high school romances to turn out to be The One. The rest of us are okay knowing the people we're dating have dated other people."

"Uh, if I weren't okay with that Noah would be in serious trouble."

"I said _dated_ other people, not _hooked up with_."

"He dated someone in San Francisco. I met her."

"Dated her until he realized he was still in love with you. Doesn't count."

"Whatever. Fine. I'm not sure what your point is."

"My point is that Rachel wasn't _the one_ and that's okay."

"And Jenna? Is she the one?"

"No, _Mom_ , there are no wedding plans. I'm twenty-two. Well, for another week at least, and twenty-three isn't exactly ancient either."

"Ha. You'd be surprised how not at all too early to get married twenty-two is according to so many people I've talked to recently."

"More annoying comments?"

"You know it. I've started telling people the father is in jail. That seems to curtail the marriage questions."

"Noah will be thrilled to hear that."

* * *

I'd planned on walking all around our favorite MIT haunts tonight, but I'm so tired after dinner with Jenna that Lee and I end up just cabbing it back to my hotel room, waiting for Noah's arrival. We do at least stop at Tosci's for pints of ice cream, and I can't help but think about how long it's been since we did this. Lee and I, camped out at opposite ends of a sofa, watching terrible TV and arguing about who's monopolizing the ice cream. (Lee. It's always Lee. I love my desserts, but that boy has an ice cream problem even I can't compete with.) I used to grumble at Noah about how often the football team stole his weekends for away games and other nonsense, but truth be told, I liked having those Lee nights too.

"I missed this," I comment to Lee. "Are you sure you don't want to move back to LA?" I'm only half joking.

"Did my mom put you up to asking that? She's been nagging me about it."

"No, _I_ put me up to it. Because I miss you."

"Ah, but greener pastures call. And I literally mean greener pastures, because all that rain in Seattle makes for much happier plants and fewer wildfires."

"That and the stack of greenbacks Microsoft offered you?"

"Also that," Lee laughs.

"Fine. I guess it's at least a shorter flight than Boston. You know you're going to need to visit all the time, right? Otherwise I'm telling Dinah her Uncle Lee is a deadbeat."

"Uncle Lee is no deadbeat. I'll be there so often Noah's head will explode."

I go back to watching the television, but after a minute Lee speaks up again.

"I don't know if I should tell you this. I don't want you to take it the wrong way, or get mad."

"Either tell me or don't, but don't be cryptic."

"I did have a job offer in LA, and not a bad one either. But in the end I thought it would be better if I... gave you guys some space."

"What? But it would have been awesome, the three of us back together."

"Elle, the three of us—that was college. And you two are going to have a lot on your plates, and now isn't the time for me to be in the way."

"You wouldn't be in the way. You've never been in the way. And I promised way, way back that I'd never ditch you for Noah."

"Yeah, but now you should." Lee's smile is a little sad. "I mean, not actually ditch me. But this needs to be... your time. Just the two of you. So consider yourself released from that promise."

I stare down at the nearly-empty ice cream carton, unsure what to say.

"Look, Elle, it's far from the only reason I picked Seattle over LA. But you and I, we've had several thousand miles between us for years now and that hasn't made us any less close, right? I love you, and I always will. But the last thing you and my idiot brother need right now is a third wheel. So I'm going to go off and do my own thing, and let you two figure all the rest of this out."

What he's saying makes sense, even if it's painful to admit. Forever ago, even before Noah, I'd told myself that Lee would always come first, that a best friend should always trump a boyfriend. But even if I'm not interested in discussing formal changes to our status right now, I have to admit Noah stopped being _just_ a boyfriend a long time ago, if he even ever was. And yeah, I guess at some point Lee became the third wheel, and maybe I shouldn't feel so guilty accepting that. Lee has, clearly. So finally I just scoot close enough to lean my head on his shoulder, and squeeze his hand in gratitude.

"You still have to come visit all the time, though." I add after a long moment.

"Well, you know how much I hate to hop on planes on a whim."

"Yeah, you and your brother. It's on my short list of evidence you're related."

"We're not," that brother interjects from the doorway, dropping his luggage. "I finally got Mom to admit Lee was left on our doorstep by vagrants."

"Well that's a goddamned relief to find out," Lee laughs as he gets up from the couch. "And you showing up is my cue to disappear before the grossness starts. We're on for breakfast tomorrow, right?"

"Eight o'clock at Flour in Central. Be on time or risk my having eaten _all_ the sticky buns," I warn Lee as he leaves, slugging Noah's shoulder in greeting on his way out the door.

Noah looks irresistibly rumpled from his travels, but he fends off my _purely unselfish_ attempts to help him out of those rumpled clothes.

"Dinner, Shelly. I know you've been eating your way through Cambridge, based on the eight hundred messages awaiting when I landed, but I still haven't had dinner." I notice then that he'd set down a take-out bag when he'd dropped his luggage.

"You don't need clothes on to eat."

"On the balcony I do, and we're going to sit on this balcony."

I hadn't even noticed the room _had_ a balcony, but once I follow Noah through the sliding door I realize why he'd insisted on this hotel, and why the desk staff at check-in had told me it was the view we'd requested. We're on the highest floor, and from the balcony I can see clear across Cambridge to the Charles and Boston beyond it.

"I figured rather than risk being arrested by campus police for trespassing, not to mention your current condition, I'd get us a legit rooftop view."

"But campus police has surely missed us."

It wouldn't be the first time Harvard campus police has caught us sneaking around. It started with discovering an accidentally-unlocked storage room leading to stairs to the roof of Noah's freshman dorm, and after that we made it our goal to sneak onto the roof, or close to it, of as many campus buildings we could; we had managed to check off all but one of the dorms by the time I left. Not that we _did_ anything on those roof tops, it was just nice to be up there alone, talking and staring out at the city around us.

I lean against the railing, staring out at the view, as Noah tears into his dinner.

"Is that from that disgusting sub shop you loved so much?"

"Eddie's isn't disgusting, but yes."

"I'm pretty sure the only reason you loved it was that you knew I'd never steal any of it."

"That was certainly _one_ of the reasons. And I'm impressed that even in your current hunger monster mode you're still turning your nose up at Eddie's."

I ignore his teasing and focus again on trying to pick out once-familiar landmarks in the distance. From the edge of the balcony I can face southeast enough to make out part of MIT campus and then BU just across the Charles. It always amused me that Lee and I could practically wave at each other from our dorms on either side of the river, even if actually getting from one campus to the other was a decent trek. Well, a decent trek by local standards. After growing up in LA, I could never get over the tininess of Boston, and that I could easily walk from one end to the other if I felt like it. Which I did, often; Noah and Lee both learned to check the actual distance on the map before believing me when I insisted some place was just a quick walk away.

"Would you want to come back?" Noah's voice interrupts my reminiscing.

"Maybe, but soon we won't have anyone left to visit. And we've done all the touristy stuff already."

"No, I meant _live_ here again. For grad school, or even after."

"Oh. I don't know, honestly. I mean, I loved being a student here, but I have no idea what actually living here would be like. Especially with a kid. Would _you_ want to? I thought you hated the endless winters and the East Coast's pathetic excuse for an ocean."

Noah laughs. "It's not my dream city, no. But you sounded pretty thrilled to be back here in all those messages you sent today, and you're looking rather wistful as you stare at the city now."

"It _is_ amazing being back. But amazing in that nostalgic way. I walked from here to Lee's this afternoon and all these memories I'd forgotten I even had came flooding back every time I passed some old familiar landmark. And I can't wait to go see my BU friends and wander around campus. But I can't say that it feels like coming home. Just—revisiting some really great memories."

Noah's done eating and joins me at the balcony railing, resting his chin on my head as he wraps his arms around me.

"What was that one dorm we never got on the roof of? Winters?" I ask him.

"Winthrop."

"Did _you_ ever?"

"No. The midnight trespass thing wasn't any fun without you. Besides, I didn't know anyone else small enough to lift through windows so you could go figure out where the roof access was."

"Anyone small enough and insane enough."

"That too," Noah agrees with a laugh.

"We can put it on the list for your five-year reunion. Dinah will be the perfect size for boosting through windows."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't sound serious when you proposed that bit of child endangerment. Besides, she'll probably be taller than you already."

I may have jabbed my elbow back into Noah's side more firmly than intended, judging from his groan. But he earned it.

We eventually stretch out on one of the deck chairs together, staring up at the night. There aren't many stars visible with all the city lights, but with the room lights off the balcony is dark enough to feel like we're hiding away on a rooftop again. I debate whether to tell Noah about Lee turning down that job offer in LA, and decide not to. Maybe he already knows, and if he doesn't, it's Lee's story to tell. As sad as I am Lee won't be moving home, he's right. We've all got new chapters to write, and we all need breathing room.

Noah is playing his usual game of tag with Dinah, and I've given up trying to stop him as long as he doesn't do it while I'm trying to sleep. In the meantime, I've been trying to remember our last rooftop excursion, and I realize it must have been my last night in Cambridge; I wonder if that's why Noah was so set on sitting out here tonight. For years I've pushed away memories of those last idyllic days before everything went wrong. Now, though, with Dad safely recovered, with my degree almost in hand, and with Noah back by my side, I don't mind remembering those days. But no matter how perfect things seemed then, now is even better.


	40. Graduation Debates

**_(Noah)_ **

I should go for a run. I  _want_  to go for a run, to follow familiar paths around campus and across the bridge to the football stadium. And if Elle were awake, she'd claim I'll be insufferable if I don't get my run in. But Elle isn't awake, she's still asleep and warm in my arms, and that's why getting up holds no appeal. I'll catch hell if I wake her this early, and I don't dare move and disrupt the careful arrangement of pillows she now requires to sleep comfortably, so I just watch her sleep. It's not a bad way to start a day.

Mark, head of the math department and my mentor these last two years, took me to lunch last week. We'd meant to discuss the job offers I'm weighing, but instead talked mostly about Elle and the impending arrival. Which has been happening a lot; people seem driven to share their wisdom and warnings about babies. Most of it is starting to blend together, but Mark did have one comment that stuck with me. He'd asked if it felt real yet, and said it wasn't until his wife had been far enough along with their first for Mark to feel him kick that it had truly hit him what was about to happen. I laughed and said we were well past that, but I didn't go into detail.

The thing is, there were no hazy early days of knowing Elle was pregnant but not having it feel real yet. I woke up one day thinking the hardest part of my day would be trying to avoid Elle on UCLA campus, and I went to sleep that night with the sensation of kicks burned into my hand. And in between, a heart-pounding hour spent trying to understand what I'd just seen and what it meant. For me. For us. The us that I'd told myself was over and that suddenly probably couldn't ever be over if I was right about what I'd seen. And then finally hitting  _send_  and everything that came after.

Not that I would have  _wanted_ it to be over. And that's the basic truth I kept circling back to in those first confusing days. Questions that would have been impossible to answer a week earlier became simple once the alternative became  _not being with Elle_. Did I want to have a kid right now? Did I want to leave San Francisco? Change jobs? Who knows what I would have answered before, because now all those questions boiled down to  _Did I want to be with Elle?_  And I did. I'd spent two years trying to convince myself I was over her, five months telling myself she was never going to let this work, and then suddenly there she was in front of me and the one thing I knew was that we weren't over, hadn't ever been over, didn't want to be over. So all those other questions—irrelevant. Because I wanted to be with Elle. But it wasn't just Elle I wanted, even if that would have been reason enough. As unplanned as this baby was, as completely unforeseen, the instant Elle pressed my palm to her belly and I realized what I was feeling, I knew I wanted this. Sure, I was terrified and confused and still more than a little furious—but I could be all of those things  _and_  strangely, undeniably thrilled. So I get what Mark meant about that first kick making it all real, and I guess it was the same for me. It was just... more dramatic of a transition in my case. Zero to sixty, buckle up and hold on.

Adam's first question, when he'd found out, had been whether I was happy about this. He'd sounded hesitant, like just asking might offend, but it was a fair question. A fair question with an easy answer: yes. How to make it all work was the hard question, but the alternative, not being with Elle, was an option I was no longer going to pretend to have any interest in. And so we had no choice but to figure our shit out, as Lee so eloquently ordered us. Which I'd like to think we have. We're not done, probably won't ever be, but there's a lot of clarity that comes with ruling out any option besides being together.

We fought a few weeks ago, about some ridiculous disagreement the details of which I've already forgotten. It turns out we still can't help but escalate and dig in our heels in the heat of the moment. But what  _has_  changed is the length of that moment. So five minutes after Elle hung up, she called me back to say she still thought I was being unreasonable, but that if it really bothered me she wouldn't, except by then I'd accepted it wasn't my decision to make. And then that was just... it. We didn't keep arguing about who'd been right, we didn't stay mad at the other for having overreacted, we just moved on. And maybe I still thought she was being rash, and maybe she still thought I was being overbearing, but was staying mad going to help? No, so I was over it.

We've finally had a few quiet weekends to ourselves, and I hadn't expected how much having our own place would matter. That first time I'd gone straight to our apartment from the airport, opening the door and seeing Elle curled up on the couch, fallen asleep waiting for me... This was home. I wasn't visiting Elle, or Elle visiting me; we were home, just the two of us, together. If I hadn't already, long ago, figured out what I wanted, it would have been impossible to deny after that moment—but I didn't need the reminder. Elle's seemed increasingly fearless about the future and about us, too. She's made casual references to far-off possibilities, to what  _we_  might be doing by then, and she's finally dropped her guilt about the changes I'm making for her. For us, more accurately, and maybe that's what she's finally understanding. It's a relief, and it's got me reconsidering the timelines I'd imagined for the next steps.

I've been going back and forth on that question increasingly often, and especially this week. Rationally I know it's still too soon, but going back to Boston together feels meaningful, symbolic, and I've done some contingency planning, just in case. To have the option. Adam was the only one I looped in; he's of the opinion I need to cool it, but he was still only too happy to consult on the project. The discreetly slim box is in my bag, tucked into my blazer pocket, and I haven't yet decided anything. I'll see how the weekend goes and play it by ear.

Sitting on the balcony last night, taking in the familiar view, I couldn't help feeling like we'd finally put right something too long broken. Boston was never the same after Elle, but now at least I knew the story was getting a better ending than I'd thought the night before my own graduation. I didn't tell the whole truth, when Elle asked if I'd ever made it to that last dorm's roof. It's true I never made it to Winthrop, but I did go on one more midnight excursion after she left. It was the night before graduation and I'd just escaped from a seemingly endless, awkward dinner with my parents and Lee. Mom hadn't been able to keep herself from updating me on Elle and asking, again, what could have gone so wrong, and I'd ignored her questions as rudely as usual, all while feeling Lee's glare blazing. I really didn't need any help from him in the guilt department, though. I got through dinner, returned to my room to finish packing, and then gave in to the urge to revisit our most frequent rooftop hideaway, above my own dorm, one last time. I should have just called Elle, that night. I even stared at her name in my phone for a while before shutting it off entirely. I should have admitted that the anger I still felt was aimed at me and at our combined idiocy, not at her. But I didn't. I kept on telling myself the lie that the ball was in her court. Maybe she'd come by my graduation party—Mom was certain to have invited her—and maybe that would tell me if there was any hope.

But enough of all that. I didn't call that night, she didn't come by the party, we wasted more time, and we're not going to waste even more time now rehashing our mistakes.

So I just watch her sleep. I've learned my lesson about provoking Dinah into waking Elle up, but that doesn't mean I can't keep one hand curved quietly over her to track the flips and kicks. I don't know why I find it so surprising that she's often awake when Elle's asleep, or vice versa. It's a reminder they aren't actually one and the same, despite my inability to imagine Dinah as anything but a tinier version of Elle. We've still made zero progress on a real name. Well, not quite zero. Occasionally we stumble upon a name that Elle doesn't declare too boring and that I don't consider too weird, and I think Elle is keeping a list of those. But nothing has sounded right so far and maybe we really do just have to wait and meet her. I'm okay with that, now that I don't have to keep calling her Dino in the meantime. I've even started to like the sound of Dinah, but Elle's veto of it was pretty adamant, as is her utter refusal to consider anything resembling Shelly. Maybe if I pointed out that I might stop calling  _her_  Shelly if the kid were named that... except I never will stop, and I don't actually think she wants me to. Anyway, it's just a name. Given what else we've managed to work out so far, I'm not worried about this one.

Finally it's late enough to risk waking Elle by getting up, and after throwing on some clothes I swing by the coffee shop downstairs. If I've learned anything these last two months, it's that I'd better be ready to provide Elle's precious one daily cup of coffee and some breakfast—preferably in the form of baked goods—as soon as possible after daring to wake her. This isn't technically a  _new_  demand of hers, but the consequences of failure are decidedly more dire these days. And no, it doesn't matter that we're about to meet up with Lee for breakfast; there still needs to be first breakfast  _now_  if I want Elle to actually get up and get ready for the day without murdering me. As we finally head out the door, I realize what's still in the pocket of the blazer I'm wearing; while I don't plan to need it today, the point was to have the option, and better not to leave something like that in the room anyway.

Elle insists on taking the bus rather than hopping in a cab, and I'll grant her that the nostalgia value of riding that familiar route is high. The 1 starts next to Harvard and cuts through MIT's campus on its way into Boston, passing not too far a walk from BU, so between the three of us we logged a lot of miles on that bus. I let Elle and Lee chatter away over breakfast while I wonder exactly how many hours of my life I've spent listening to those two; at least now I realize why I could never just ignore them. I sit back and listen, watch, soak it all in again. Seeing Elle back on a campus we'd spent almost as much time hanging around as our own. She rolls her eyes when I make her stop and pose on MIT's main entrance steps, but I have a picture of her there from way back, from the time she and Lee flew to Boston for admitted students' weekends, and suddenly I need its bookend. She'd looked amazing that day, even more so than usual, and maybe it was the glow of knowing she'd be here all the time next year, that our separation was nearly over. Today, though, Elle's somehow even more beautiful. She keeps talking about how huge she thinks she's getting, and I wish I could make her see reason. Or just get her to see what I see. I've tried telling her that before, of course, and she just laughs and tells me that's all vestigial caveman instincts, that I just like seeing her pregnant because it's mine. Which... definitely isn't all of it but isn't wrong either, and I'm not sure why that would be a bad thing. But even if she refuses to believe me, I'm still going to capture these moments.

Lee heads off to line up with his classmates and I watch Elle and my parents chat as we wait for the ceremony to get started. I think my dad has finally fully chilled out about the situation—at least, to Elle. He and I still have our tensions, and ironically over the very thing I've been debating ahead of this trip, but around Elle he's lost that stiff awkwardness he'd had a month ago, at family lunch. And Mom, well, no comment needed there. She's again claiming that she predicted this, and if that's true, I'm glad she butted out enough for it to actually happen. I wonder if that's why she has yet to join Dad's nagging about marriage, if it's because that's also on her list of years-ago predictions she's smugly sitting back to watch unfold, knowing no intervention is necessary. The slim case remains tucked into the inner pocket of my blazer and every so often I check for it, reassured to feel its outline and slight weight.

Elle makes an absolute spectacle of herself cheering when Lee's name is called and he walks across the stage to collect his diploma, and I have only myself to blame for the flash of regret that I didn't get that same treatment at my graduation. Lee mugs for the cameras, and seeing my kid brother graduate makes me feel weirdly old. Lee hates it when I call him that, and reminds me that I don't even have two full years on him, but whatever. He's still my kid brother, and both of us being out of school feels like a milestone. Lee's out of school, therefore Lee's old, therefore I'm old. You'd think impending fatherhood would be worse for making me feel old, but no one said these things make sense.

There's a crush of graduates and families at the reception Lee's department hosts after the ceremony, and I convince Elle to sit while I go get us drinks and try to find Lee. I should have guessed that in the meantime Elle would make friends, and by the time I return there are three guys sitting at the table with her. I'm the last person to need Elle's magnetism explained, but it makes me laugh every time. Well, laugh and then swoop in. That's what Lee used to call it when I decided it was time to walk over and drape an affectionate arm around my extremely charming girlfriend while smiling smugly at her disappointed admirers. Personally, I prefer to think of it as  _clarifying the situation_ , and these guys look to be in need of clarity. Elle laughs when she sees me walking over with my best glare on, but it turns out there's no need for it, these guys are friends of Lee's and already aware of the situation. Extremely well aware, as apparently Lee can't shut up about being an uncle. Lee's not bad as far as annoying kid brothers go, but don't tell him I said that.

Speaking of, he finds us through the crowd and I finally get to meet Jenna. She's clearly way too good for Lee, but apparently there arewomen out there who find my brother appealing. Which, you know, good for him, but also good for me if it distracts him from meddling. I say as much to Elle when Jenna steps away for a minute, and it's true that sometimes I deserve those sharp elbow jabs of hers. All kidding aside, Jenna seems nice enough. From the slightly disconcerted look on her face I gather she's not yet used to the Elle and Lee show, and I'm tempted to take her aside for a quick primer on the wonder twins. I am the world's reluctant expert in putting up with their nonsense, not to mention the person best placed to reassure Lee's girlfriends that there really isn't anything romantic between those two and never has been. New friends always seem puzzled that this has never worried me, but I've been watching these two literally their entire lives. And besides, Lee isn't anywhere near good enough an actor to fake his utter and persistent bewilderment that I could possibly think of Elle romantically. We have never, ever seen her the same way and thank God for that.

My parents insist on taking us all out to dinner that evening, Jenna included, and after weeks of Elle's and my relationship being the subject of way too much familial attention, it's nice to sit back and watch Lee squirm instead. Lee's headed to Seattle and Jenna has another year of law school to go in Boston, so I wonder what their plan is. I tried to ask him earlier today, but Lee just rolled his eyes and told me normal people don't start making long-term plans after four months. It sure sounded like Lee intended that as a dig, but I'm also certain he'd have killed me if I'd ever said that about Elle. Thankfully, not really an issue. Elle and Jenna do seem to be hitting it off, so at least the girl stands a chance of lasting, should she for some inexplicable reason continue to find my brother's company enjoyable.

I check my pocket again as I watch Elle demolish a piece of cake the size of her head while chatting with my mom about our plans for the rest of the weekend. The box is still there, still waiting for me to make up my damn mind. I don't have any kind of plan worked out, and the rational side of my brain is still telling me to wait, but the option is there. Today, though, has been about Lee and about family, about the end of an era for all of us, and the time just doesn't seem right.

Elle insists we walk back to the hotel, and I've learned the hard way not to ask if maybe she shouldn't be taking it easier. It's a gorgeous night, though, and I have to laugh when we walk past my freshman dorm and Elle pulls me into a courtyard alcove we were once quite familiar with. I won't be talked into letting her scale any roofs right now, but this memory I have no objection revisiting. Stone benches are still as uncomfortable as I remember them, however, and eventually I remind Elle we have a very nice room with an actual bed awaiting us.

The last stretch of the walk takes us along the Charles and for one brief moment, when we round a curve and the city lights suddenly span the horizon across the river, I reconsider everything rational. We're not far from the footbridge she loved and I'm reasonably certain Elle would give me high marks for the cheesy romance of it all... Unless, of course, she's too busy telling me I'm insane or, worse yet, quietly panicking. And then Elle's phone rings and the moment evaporates as fast as it appeared, and it's probably for the best. It's Mickey calling, and Elle launches into enthusiastic tales about her day and how everything is just as she remembered it, and that's what convinces me this isn't the time. This weekend is about closure, not the future.

I'm still glad to have that ring in my pocket, and I hope to need it soon, but not before the time is right. And if there's one truth this year has driven home, it's that expectations can flip in a heartbeat. Plans are good, options are good, but in the end you just have to read the room and roll with the punches. Maybe it'll be this week, maybe much later. But not tonight.


	41. Wanderings

**_(Elle)_ **

Pregnancy insomnia strikes again, and by the time I've used the bathroom and had a snack it's clear I won't be falling back asleep any time soon. For once that's convenient, as I've got one last final to study for. Not to mention, it's an opportunity to watch Noah sleep, something I too rarely get to do given his annoyingly early-rising habits. I curl up on the couch with my notes and actually manage to get a solid chunk of studying done before Noah stirs and I decide to join him back in bed. Apparently he's not actually interested in waking up, though, as he buries his face under a pillow after briefly cracking an eye open to check the time. I curl up behind him and start tracing light patterns over his neck, laughing as he tries to shake my hand off.

"See, it's not so funny when you're the one who wants to keep sleeping." I keep right on tickling him; he's earned some payback.

"It's six a.m. Why are you even awake?" Noah mutters.

"Pregnancy sucks. I've been awake since four, figured I'd get some studying done. And why aren't  _you_  awake? Are you getting lazy in your old age?"

"Jetlag, Shelly. And if you don't remember why I didn't get to sleep until late last night, I'm a little offended."

"Hmmmm. I think I recall, but a reminder would be good."

"Nope. Let me explain how this works, at least according to you. The annoyingly awake person has to provide coffee and breakfast if they expect entertainment from the sleeping person."

"No, the rule is  _you_  have to provide coffee to  _me_. It's just coincidence that I'm usually the sleepy one."

Noah burrows deeper into his pillow, and it doesn't look like I've convinced him. Fine, I'll let him snooze for a bit. I get up to draw the curtains closed to darken the room, then curl back up next to him, playing with his hair.

"You got a haircut. I thought maybe you were letting it get long again." Okay, so I lied about letting him snooze.

"Not intentionally, and Mom threatened me if I didn't clean it up before Lee's graduation. Why, you don't like it?"

"No, it  _looks_ great. But you know I love the moppy hair."

"You and no one else."

"Well, no one else plays with your hair. At least, I hope."

Noah pretends to think about it for just a second too long and I'm about to exact revenge when Dinah does it for me. Apparently she's not pleased at how tightly I've pressed up against his back and she's decided to shove him away herself.

"No fair getting Dinah to fight your battles for you." Noah groans, rolling away.

"Yeah, because I have total control over the kicking. All those times she's stomped on my organs, that was intentional."

"Whatever. You win. I'm getting up. I'm going to get coffee. Try to be less obnoxious, both of you, when I get back."

"No, I'm getting up too. We're going to that place with the crunchy French toast. Come on, it's stupid early and we're both awake, it'll be like Saturday practices."

One semester Noah's coach tried scheduling Saturday morning practices. He gave up after a couple months of incredibly cranky and hung-over players, but until he did Noah used to have to bribe me with the promise of French toast to kick me out of his room that early.

"Are they even still open?"

"There's a thing called the internet. You think I didn't check on all my favorites before flying out here?"

Noah grumbles a little more but he knows better than to stand in my way right now, and soon enough we're walking into Zoe's. A waitress comes to seat us and her face lights up after a second, just as I'm recognizing her too.

"Miss Elle! And your young man whose name I'm sorry to have forgotten."

Ah, Miss Nancy. It's never been clear to me whether she actually owns this place or just acts like it, but she treats all the college student regulars like her wayward grandkids, and woe betide anyone foolish enough to get on her bad side. And yes, it's  _Miss_  Nancy, no ill-mannered informality advised unless you want to be denied breakfast. She eyes us carefully before nodding and then leading us to a table. I'm a little amazed she remembers my name, but she did love to chat, and back then we'd keep talking long after Noah had left for practice. I'm half expecting her to start interrogating me about the pregnancy and what we've been up to in the past three years, but other than some pointed glances and hiked eyebrows she says nothing. At least, until she pulls me aside as I'm walking back from the bathroom.

"I'm so glad to see you again, and with such good news on the way. But I couldn't help but notice the lack of rings. Do I need to scare that boy a little, remind him of his responsibilities?"

The look on her face is half kindly, half scarily serious, and I have to laugh. Nancy really does believe she's everyone's grandmother. Everyone's extremely overbearing, old-fashioned grandmother. "It's fine, Miss Nancy. It's... been a weird year and we've been busy with other stuff. But you don't need to do any threatening."

Nancy looks unconvinced. "Busy? City Hall is just down the street. Getting a license takes no time at all. You could be married by lunchtime and come back here to tell me. And I  _know_  they do weddings on Saturdays."

Now I'm curious how many people Nancy has badgered into getting married that she knows the marriage license office's hours.

"That's, uh, helpful information. But maybe not today. And we don't actually live here anymore, we're back home in LA."

"I'm sure LA has a city hall."

"I'll keep that in mind. I promise. And I'll send you a picture if we do."

" _If_?" Nancy clearly does not approve. "Well, you're not getting any more of my French toast until you do. It's not for you you get married, you know, it's for that baby."

"You're very persuasive. I promise I'll keep you updated. And I think Noah's starting to get concerned that you keep glaring at him while talking to me, so I'm just going to... go sit back down. Please don't put any poison in his coffee."

Miss Nancy's dismissive  _hmmphh_  is not entirely reassuring as to her intentions, but she sweeps off to the kitchen without further comment. Noah gives me a curious look as I sit back down.

"It's a long story, but we can't come back here for a while." I tell him.

"Do I want to know?"

"You really don't."

"So, where to now?" Noah asks, our breakfast finished.

"I want to wander."

"Wander? At random?"

"No, but just... around. There's nowhere specific I need to go, but I was hoping to visit BU campus today. We could walk over."

"Are you sure? You were on your feet a long time yesterday, and -"

Not this again. "Yes, I'm sure I can  _walk_. I've been walking for twenty-two years, I think I've got the hang of it."

Noah rolls his eyes at me. "You know what I meant."

"No. Please enlighten me."

"You're pregnant. Very pregnant."

"I'm  _what_?" I give him my best shocked face. "Holy crap, why didn't anyone tell me? Is  _that_  why none of my pants fit? ... Wait, who's the father?"

"Hilarious."

"What's hilarious is your and everybody else's belief that being pregnant makes me feeble. How do you think I've been getting to classes and lab and the library?  _Walking_. I even have a heavy backpack I carry just to make things harder. And then sometimes I go swim in the evenings. I can handle a morning stroll."

"And after that swim you call and tell me how exhausted you are."

"Yes. As is normal to be after a workout, knocked up or not. Seriously, chill. I feel fine and I've got another seven weeks of this. If I stop walking now I really will become an invalid once I get even bigger."

At least he knows better than to keep arguing with me. But really, enough with the worrying.

Noah insists that if we're crossing the river we at least go by way of Harvard's football facilities, and it's nice seeing him there again, even if it reminds me of a question that's been bothering me.

"Do you miss playing?" I ask with some hesitation.

"Football? Not really. I miss the whole team and competition thing, but I've been getting that from coaching."

"And in LA?"

"In LA what?"

"Are you going to find some kind of coaching gig?"

He shrugs, and I don't know if I should feel guilty about this, too.

"Don't make that face, Shelly. If I miss it too much, I'll do something about it. But I figure we're going to be busy enough next year."

"Yeah, so everyone tells me."

"And besides, I've got baseball to brush up on so I can coach Brad."

"You really don't need to try that hard. You're already his hero." I laugh.

"All the more reason to live up to it."

He's obnoxiously sweet sometimes.

We slowly wander our way in the direction of BU, and it's nice having a lazy morning together. Not physically lazy, because we've covered several miles by the time I get my fill of wandering, but I've put this week's finals and all the other graduation stress out of my mind and we have nothing to get done and no schedule to follow. It's just a walk with Noah, a weird mix of feeling nineteen again by moments and scarily adult at others. We're debating his job offers again, but I really don't want to have a say in this one. He's already quitting and moving for me, so I need at least this decision to be entirely his. I do have an opinion—I'd rather he go work with Natalie than for one of Matthew's buddies, the other option so far—but he seems to be leaning that way anyway, so I keep quiet.

We finally make it to campus, and I'm enjoying soaking it all in again. I keep excitedly pointing things out to Noah, as if he hadn't been almost as familiar with this campus as I was. I stop by the campus bookstore to buy an infant-sized BU shirt, and based on the face Noah makes I assume he'll be buying the kid a Harvard shirt for balance as soon as we get back across the river. That's fine, I've already got a stash of UCLA outfits from the shower and Lee bought out the MIT bookstore's supply of baby wear, so no way is Noah winning this war. I'm tempted to order a Yale onesie online. Maybe I'll save that for when he's really ticked me off.

It's when we sit on the green behind the chapel to rest for a minute that it suddenly hits me. There's no specific trigger, nothing in particular I see or hear that brings it all back, the emotions just surge and boil over on their own. And I couldn't even tell you what all those emotions are, exactly. Regret and relief and disappointment and nostalgia and frustration and anger, all swirling, and I'm crying for the first time in weeks. Noah looks alarmed at first, but I think he also gets it, gets that there's nothing for him to say or do other than keep an arm tight around me until I've cried it all out. It's about him and about us but also about so much more, and it's long overdue. Eventually the tears run out and I feel calm again, and we just kind of get up after a few minutes and keep on walking.

My early wake up starts hitting me hard, so once we've had lunch I convince Noah to go see his parents and Lee while I head back to the hotel for a nap. We're meeting up with my BU friends tonight, and I'm not going to make it past dinner without some extra sleep.

I wake several hours later to the sound of Noah and Lee trying and failing to keep their squabbling quiet.

"I'm just saying, Lee works very well as a girl's name. As you yourself used to delight in telling me."

There's a muted thump, a burst of surprised laughter, followed by another thump and then another, and when I give in and open my eyes those lunatics are clobbering each other with the couch's throw pillows. They haven't noticed I'm awake and I grab my phone to make sure there's video evidence of the fact they are still absolute toddlers around each other. As long as there's no actual violence, I've given up. Noah does have Lee pinned, though, so maybe I should intervene.

"You are college graduates, both of you. Well past your teens. Alleged grownups. Don't make me send the video I just took to your mom."

"Elle, hey, sorry, did we wake you? We were just... having a discussion." Lee claims sheepishly, taking advantage of Noah releasing his arms to get one last elbow jab in.

"Yeah, I heard. Lee, I love you dearly, but for the last time, I'm not naming this baby Lee. And  _you_ , stop smirking, because  _your_ name ideas are even worse."

They seriously are. Noah either has the world's most boring taste in names, or is secretly a hundred years old, because he keeps throwing out grandma names like Mary and Sarah. He claims my suggestions are weird, and too bad for him, because I'm going to decree that carrying and birthing this baby grants me exclusive naming privileges.

"Lee, why are you even here?" I ask.

"Aren't you meeting up with your BU friends tonight?"

"Yeah. And?"

"I liked those guys too, you know."

"Lee's going to join us for dinner and then he and I will peel off while you and your friends do whatever girly things you have planned." Noah adds.

"We're going to sit around Mindy's apartment with whoever shows up to see me. I'm not sure that's especially girly, nor are all the invitees women. And can I trust you two not to murder each other if left alone? This pillow fight situation is not inspiring confidence, and I'd rather you both stay alive and out of jail."

"After twenty-three years, wouldn't I have done it by now if I were going to?" Noah smirks.

"Uh huh. And how often was  _I_  the only thing preventing you two from killing each other?"

"To be fair, you were frequently also the reason we were trying to." Lee points out.

"Fine, whatever. As long as Dinah has either a father or an uncle left alive, right now I can't say I care strongly which one of you it is."

* * *

**_(Noah)_ **

Dinner with Elle's former suitemates goes well. I'd forgotten how fun her gang was, and I realize now I've missed them, even if their loss didn't exactly register back then compared to everything else. Lee's clearly having fun too, and I even wonder if he isn't flirting with one of them a little, but I should probably leave any meddling on that topic to Elle. Pretty soon she and her friends are deep into ancient private jokes and incomprehensible references, and Lee and I leave them to catch up while we find a sports bar. Lee turned a lot more Bostonian than I ever did, and he wants to watch one last Sox game surrounded by locals before leaving. Why, I'm not sure, since Sox fans were pretty much the worst thing about Boston in my experience, but whatever, I can use the opportunity to brush up on baseball for Brad.

In the end I don't have to decide whether to ask about Lee's earlier flirting, because he brings Jenna up himself. Apparently the answer to what their plan is for after he leaves town is... no real plan, and it's sounding like that's intentional on his part.

"I don't know. I mean, it's only been a few months, and all this graduation stuff has made me realize I'm just not that torn up about leaving," Lee tells me, staring contemplatively at his beer.

I'm not sure if he's expecting a response.

"Just... make sure  _she_  knows that. She seemed pretty into you." I finally say.

"Yeah. I thought I was too."

"Into you? Yeah. You're definitely more into you than anyone else is."

Lee rolls his eyes. "You knew what I meant, jackass. Anyway, I'd been assuming we'd keep this going, but then I ran into Kristina at graduation. Flynn, Gordon—we were in the same line-up area, we ended up talking."

"Great. Here we go again," I groan.

Kristina dumped Lee almost two years ago. Not, like, horribly, but he took it hard anyway. Or at least, hard enough to have voluntarily talked to me about it, which is saying something. There were some frankly embarrassing attempts to win her back for a while there, but I really thought he was over it by now.

"Relax. I'm not still carrying a torch or anything. But talking to her, and then seeing Jenna later, I don't know. It put things in perspective."

"So you're going to compare every girl to Kris and dump them if they don't make you forget her? Sounds like a great plan."

Lee looks at me with raised eyebrows. "Wait, are you seriously trying to give me breakup advice? Exactly how many girls have  _you_  dated and gotten over?"

Before I can respond, Lee keeps going. "And by dated, I don't mean hooked up with, or took to dinner twice. How many girls have you ever referred to as your girlfriend? Or, to set a really low bar, gone on more than three dates with?"

I roll my eyes at him. He knows the answer.

"Yeah. I thought so. So maybe you're not the best authority on moving on after a breakup since you have literally  _never_ managed it. No, don't try to tell me Megan. I saw you together and there was never anything to move on from. I mean, speaking as Elle's best friend, I'm glad you've become one of those weird animals that mates for life and then just sits there looking forlorn instead of finding a replacement if that mate gets eaten by a bear. But forgive me if I laugh at the idea of you doling out advice on dating. God, you and Elle."

"Me and Elle what?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

Lee stares into his glass before smirking. "Elle likes to volunteer dating advice too, and she's nearly as unqualified."

"Nearly?"

"Do you know how hard I tried to get her socializing again? And Mickey did, too. And because she's not you, she usually went on a few dates before giving them the  _it's not you, it's me_  speech. But you and I are not having this conversation."

Nor do I want to. Elle has alluded to some dating, but there are aspects of her life in our time apart I have no interest in knowing about.

"Fine. I don't actually want to discuss your girl drama. But tell Jenna, is all I'm saying."

"Again, advice from you on talking rather than avoiding someone... but yeah, we're done with this conversation."

Just because I've been an idiot doesn't mean I'm not aware I've been an idiot, but whatever. I'll gladly leave dealing with Lee's love life to Elle, and we go back to watching the game for a while.

"You ready for this?" Lee asks suddenly.

"This... the baby?"

"The baby. Moving in with Elle. The wedding Mom's been planning for ten years."

"No, yes, and cool it."

"Cool it? Me? I'm not the one walking around with a ring in his pocket."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play dumb. You've patted your pocket five times this evening, and I lost count yesterday. Can I see it?"

"No."

"So it  _is_  there."

"No comment."

"Is there a plan?"

"Nothing imminent. Not that I'd tell you."

"So you're just walking around with a ring for no reason?"

"Elle likes to spring things on me, it's good to be prepared." Apparently it's been time enough to find some humor in how long I was kept in the dark.

"Very Boy Scout of you."

"Too bad you got us kicked out of Scouts." I laugh.

"Look, they wouldn't let Elle join. I had to take a stand."

"It used to drive me crazy, your inability to do anything without her. Every day, there you two were, driving me nuts."

"If I'd realized it was going to cause you to become hopelessly, pathetically enamored of my best friend, I promise we would only have hung out at her house."

"Hindsight is 20/20. Anyway, I'm glad you didn't." I drain my glass and wonder whether to order another.

"So glad that you're carrying a ring around  _just in case_? Don't do it this weekend, man. All she's talked about are the old days. She's, like, wrapping up loose ends and saying goodbye."

"Yeah, figured that one out for myself."

"Good. Because she doesn't want Boston you proposing to Boston her. Do it later, back home, when it's about who you are now and what you want your future to be. That sounds good, by the way, write that down and use that."

"No."

"Think you can come up with better?"

"Yes. And even if I couldn't, the absolute last person I want ghostwriting a proposal is you."

"Yeah, you're right. It's weird enough as it is."

I don't really have a response to that, but Lee continues anyway.

"I'm not going to say anything about this to her, by the way. I know you don't believe me, but I do understand brotherly loyalty."

"Would you really have told me if I hadn't stumbled on the news myself?" I believe Elle when she says she was about to tell me. I'm not sure I believe Lee when he says  _he_  would have.

"If Elle still hadn't by the next weekend? Yeah. Again, she's not the only one I care about."

I'm tempted to respond with a wisecrack about that being news to me, but instead I just tell him I'm cutting off his beer supply before he gets any sappier.

"One tip, though: If the idea is to surprise her, or not freak her out, be less obvious about the ring box."

I roll my eyes at him.

"Wait, more advice. No public proposals. One time a guy proposed on the Jumbotron at Fenway and Elle wouldn't shut up about what kind of jerk would do that. So don't do that."

"Noted."

"And you're aware of her many strong opinions on jewelry, right?"

"I thought we agreed we weren't talking about this."

"Forgive me for not wanting you to screw this up."

"You wanted to watch the game. Watch the game." I really, really have no interest in discussing this with Lee.

"Fine. But when you realize you don't know what you're doing, at least call Mickey."

It's not until we're leaving the bar that I give in and ask.

"Do you think she'd say yes?" I don't look at Lee, just focus on the credit card slip I'm signing.

"Right now? I think she'd want to. I also think she'd hesitate. Not about you, about everything else. The timing and the rush and having everyone badgering her about it all the time."

I don't respond, and Lee goes on. "At least let her graduate, get yourself moved down to LA, settle in. Honestly, maybe wait until after the baby. Although, Jenna says you shouldn't. She was taking family law this semester and she gave me a whole list of reasons why it would be smarter to be married before the baby's born. But I can tell you Elle would hate that reason. I don't know. She's kind of weird on this topic."

"So your advice, as the person who claims to know Elle best, is that you have no idea."

"Basically."

"That's really helpful."

* * *

_**Author's Note: Apologies for last week's lack of update. Life is hectic and keeping up with posting in three places is getting too difficult, especially when I like to go back and fuss with edits. I am probably going to be posting primarily on Wattpad until this story is completed, then moving everything over here, although maybe I'll come by AO3 and drop several chapters at once every few weeks.** _

_**But if you're antsy...**_ www.wattpad.com/story/169252478-birthday-flowers-the-kissing-booth  ** _And as further inducement... Chapters 42 and 43 are already posted._**

**Author's Note:**

> I'm crossposting at Wattpad, because that's where all the TKB people are. If you want to wander over, I tend to stay a couple chapters ahead over there vs here; there's a lot of commenting activity there so I use it to make sure I'm happy with chapters before posting elsewhere. https://www.wattpad.com/story/169252478-birthday-flowers-the-kissing-booth


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